I am remembering back to when I first found myself single again after I had started testosterone. A dear friend of mine had invited me out for dinner at a local bistro. While she and I were sitting there talking about my new relationship status, I happened to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the restaurant's window. Apparently I was seated directly under the recessed lighting, which only highlighted just how broad my shoulders had grown from the testosterone injections and routine weight lifting regime. At first I didn't realize that it was me in the reflected image, but once I did, I started to blush. My friend, caught off guard, asked what instigated my funny reaction, as she looked around not noticing anything out of sorts.
"Well, I just saw myself as others must see me, and it startled me. I didn't recognize myself, and how much wider I have grown over the months..." I replied.
She took it in stride, and was nice enough to joke about it with me to break some of the tension and surprise. Years before, I had developed a crush on her, and her kindnesses towards me, but nothing ever became of it. Ever since, we have been tremendous friends, and she always has my back. My ever widening, broadening, muscular back.
We started to joke about how my love of weight training might interfere with my romantic prospects in this city of scenesters. So many of our friends, and extended acquaintances in the 'indie music scene' here in DC seem to prefer the tall, lanky, scruffy, loafing demographic of men. Here I am: short, stocky, beefy, a Type A personality, who's a little too effervescent too much of the time, having grown up in the punk scene in my affable New England hometown. Trying to reassess where I belong now, and who 'my people' are...
Have I accidentally 'lifted' myself out of contention?
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