Frankenstein (legs)

Ironically, my post has nothing to do with Halloween.

This October marks the third anniversary of my 'transition,' when I first started injecting testosterone to slide a bit farther towards the masculine end of the gender specturm. Within a few months of being on T, I began to notice some weird side effects that other transguys hadn't mentioned to me before. The most noticeable 'glitch' I hadn't expected was severe muscle rigidity. By this I mean: my muscles complete lock and become almost frozen in mid stance. Awesome! (This added to the male pattern baldness, bouts of acne, and weight gain, and I'm on the short list for People Magazine's sexiest man of the year...)

I snarkily nicknamed this muscle rigidity "Frankenstein Legs." (I mean, doesn't everyone nickname their quirky physiological side effects???) People used to think I was making it up, just to be funny. And then they saw me struggle to make even the most inane movements, where my body would freeze mid-stride. Or, I'd get out of my car, and my legs would lock, and I'd end up walking like a cowboy with hemorrhoids for the first few steps, trying to 'work through' my muscles locking up. I look like an idiot. Or when I opt to take the stairs, instead of the elevator from the parking garage at Whole Foods, people think I am being modest or generous for not taking up the handicap parking spot that I clearly deserve with my weird stuttery, goose steps. Three years and counting, folks! Happy fricken anniversary to me!

Matters were only made worse when I was recently diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (another possible side effect of the T, but anywho ~), and the related meds for ADD have me almost completely paralyzed. My body can barely move, and I feel like I've been buried alive, where my limbs can't even follow the most rudimentary of gestures. Smooth. My doc gave me muscle relaxers to help me out.

If Frankenstein was the doctor himself, and goon was called "Frankenstein's Monster," then why the hell didn't the doctor give the goon some muscle relaxers, a few shots of Botox, a brow lift, and some mood stabilizers? It's almost like he wanted his creation to be chased by villagers toting flaming torches.

Now that I think about it, is this some line of foreshadowing? Is that what I have to look forward to as I age? Stomping around with my deep set eyes, furrowed brow, burly scars, and limited vocabulary. Well, at least I have better shoes! And a tailor...