Confidence Rising

Prior to starting testosterone I could never look at myself unclothed, in a swimming outfit, in tank tops, or even in shorts. Not that I'd ever considered myself unattractive - just entirely disconnected. I felt soft. Hairless. Prepubescent.

Seeing as I'm attracted to soft and hairless feminine individuals, I could look at myself and, on some level, could appreciate it, even though it wasn't me. And, admittedly, the longer the testosterone reshapes my appearance, the less attractive I become to myself.

There's a little bit of irony in that. The less attractive I become to myself - the more acne-ridden, square-headed, pot-bellied, muscular, and hairy - the more confident I become. Connected. Relieved. Hopeful.

The me I'd known since the world of whoa-puberty-you're-going-the-wrong-way! kicked in NEVER wanted to wear shorts, for example. Yet, now that there's hair growing all over the place below my knee AND above my knee, I can't resist wearing these ridiculous flared out soccer shorts almost every.single.day.

I got a taste of this short life after I decided to get a pair to play softball in due to the extreme heat. While peddling to practice, my soccer skort would blow up in the wind and I'd catch glimpses of my pale, hairy flesh.

Skort, by the way, is the most accurate way to describe it. According to Wikipedia:

The term "skort" (a portmanteau of skirt and shorts) is used idiomatically in some regions. While some garments sold as culottes resemble short trousers, to be a skort they need to look like skirts. They are distinguised from trousers or shorts by a fuller cut at the bottom (hem) than at the waist. Skorts were developed in order to provide more freedom to do activities such as gardening, cleaning, or bike riding, and give the appearance of a skirt.

Soon after I wore my soccer skort again to jog in this 5k breast cancer awareness shindig. Even though I had plenty of opportunity throughout the day to change, I couldn't make myself do it. I just couldn't stop basking in my hairy legged glory.

And I've worn this ridiculous thing almost every day since - the only exceptions being while they're being washed or I force myself to wear something else. I should probably invest in another pair or two. Shorts this time.

It's so swell. While bicycling I catch those hairy glimpses and get distracted in the most indescribable, physiologically soothing way.

Essentially, I suspect that the only thing stopping me from running around in a speedo is the fact that I haven't had top surgery yet. Gadz, if I did, there'd be no stopping it. I'd probably spend every single day for a long ol' time doing exactly this:



Also, in regards to aesthetic changes, people have been commenting on my 'stache action and occasionally petting my soft stubble and going, "Oooo! You're getting stubble!".