I like to keep tabs on when I go on and off testosterone, and I’m pretty far behind this time around. About a month ago, I went back to my stash of Androgel 1.62%. I had stockpiled it years ago, and at this point, I had 2 bottles left, which had expired 2 years ago. I figured I might as well use them up (they still seem effective, just not sure if it’s less effective than they once were) rather than throw them out. I’m doing 2 pumps per day; at that rate, each bottle lasts one month. So when I run out at the end of January, I’ll probably just switch over to injections – I also have testosterone cypionate 200 mg/ml stockpiled. Probably enough to last me 6 months.
I’m doing this without going to an endocrinologist, physician, or through Planned Parenthood or some other type of clinic. I just don’t think that I need to. I think that I will be on testosterone short term, again, and by the time I’m back off it, seeing a medical professional would have barely been worth it. I kind of think I might cycle on T for 6 months / off T 6 months, back on, back off, for a while. And I’ll have to go back at some point to get more, so I can be monitored again at that point.
It seems to be a larger trend that as time goes on, the decisions are more in the patient’s hands anyway, and access is much improved. More and more Planned Parenthoods are offering HRT, for example, through an informed consent model, and you can get started the same day that you made your appointment. This is amazing! No more blood work, no lying about your gender identity to make sure you’re going to get your prescription, no waiting for months for the initial appointment and then weeks after that appointment for the prescription. Next time I need some, I’m just going to do this.
While I was off of testosterone, some stuff changed. The best thing that happened was that I gained a lot of nerve sensation back, in my chest. I am beyond thrilled by this! I assumed that at the point I was at (3 years since top surgery), healing had plateaued, and that was all I was gonna get. After a few months off T though, things started changing pretty drastically. Areas that were numb started to get back more feeling. Areas that were painful if I touched too roughly were no longer painful. I would even go as far as to say that erotic sensation has started to return, slightly. Things still aren’t the way they were, but it’s a huge improvement, especially since I had given up!
Oh also! My receding hairline had been worrisome – it was a big factor in my decision to go off T last spring. I imagined it would just halt the hair loss, but in fact, hairs started growing back in the area I assumed was now “bald”!! I’m talking about my temples – little hairs grew back in! I didn’t even know that could happen. Super psyched by that!
Even though these are huge pluses, things had gotten off balance again, and by going back on T, I feel more balanced (until I’m not, again… I know it’ll happen.) The weather was getting colder, and I just felt too cold. The joints in my hands and arms ached. Now that I’m a month in, pain, gone! The biggest reason for the shift, though, is just much more nebulous. Somehow I was being pegged as female by strangers again. I have no idea why: it’s not like my voice or face shape changed back! It must be an aura or a smell or like, pheromones or something. Or maybe a way of carrying myself? Whatever it was, it wasn’t sitting right. And I’m feeling good with that decision.
Will check back in when I’m not good with it, again. Probably within a few months, if the past is any indication of the future…
So I’ve been blogging for a while now, and I haven’t said a whole lot about my spouse, basically out of respect for their privacy. But they actually have a lot to say! Here’s just a little bit of what goes on behind the scenes:
Over the last 6 years that Kameron has been recording his gender transition journey, I have always appeared in his writing as the supportive spouse. That’s a role I have been happy to fill. Happy to be part of a couple t hat goes against the standard narrative of couples perceived as “same-sex” who split when one comes out as transmasculine/trans male. I never felt that Kameron’s transition challenged my sexual orientation—I am that rare non-binary unicorn who discovers their identity all at once, albeit belatedly. I never thought I was a lesbian, if anything other people read me as asexual. As I came into my own queer sexuality and genderqueer identity, I was falling for a pansexual gender non-conforming guy (I have no idea how he would define himself, this is how I experienced him). I embraced the po-mo complexity of my attraction to his particular queer blend of femininity and masculinity.
For me, being genderqueer gave me permission to play with my gender presentation. I had fun thrifting to build a wardrobe that reflected the spectrum of my gender expression—t-shirts from the boys section, day-glo green femme sweaters, bright blue doc marten boots, mini-skirts, baggy pants and flannel shirts. I felt more confident taking up space, and attracting the attention of other gender non-conforming queer people. But once I found myself romantically involved with someone (before Kameron), my partner assumed that I was “the more feminine one.” I felt pressured to present more femininely to heighten their tenuous, new expression of masculinity.
Now when I look back at the past 13 years of my life, I question whether I presented femininely because I internalized that pressure and carried it forward into my relationship with Kameron. Was this shift an unconscious assimilation to ease moving through the world? Or did I truly want to grow my hair out, wear skirts/dresses, and feel included in feminist spaces?! What a mindfuck! Being genderfluid makes life hella complicated. I have identified as a genderqueer femme, but that feels too limiting now. My gender expression has shifted again in the last 3 years toward a more masculine presentation. I feel more comfortable with how others see me now but I am sure that I am still perceived as a queer woman. The pendulum has simply swayed from femme to butch.
While Kameron’s transition didn’t threaten my sexual orientation, I did find myself at times feeling like I was getting left behind. I started to have strange pangs of jealousy—I had a much larger chest and have felt dysphoric about it since it first developed, but I wasn’t the one getting top surgery. I was the one sitting in a waiting room and I was the one keeping track of how much blood was accumulating in his drains, taking time off to help him with early recovery. Where were these ugly resentments coming from? I was so dissociated from my feelings and my body that it took years of watching Kameron’s transition unfold for me to start exploring my gender identity more.
It’s funny that we didn’t talk much about our gender identities with each other, I cocooned myself a bit and started parsing out what felt good and what didn’t. “She” was icky, so I asked Kameron, some close friends & family members, and co-workers to start using “they/them/theirs” for me. Ah, a sigh of relief. Then more discomfort would surface, I couldn’t wear bras anymore, not even sports bras. I threw them all away and got advice from Kameron
on various binder options. Another sigh of relief. Then a sudden surge of agitation when a friend starting dating someone with my given name. I had already been obsessively browsing Celtic baby name websites but now I felt an urgency to rename myself. Overall, I feel more comfortable with my gender now, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. I have started low-dose testosterone (shout out to Planned Parenthood for using an informed consent model) and am scheduling a top surgery consult soon. I am hoping that these steps will help alleviate my dysphoria, as it feels ever present now that I have stopped compartmentalizing it. These flooding feelings has been difficult to manage, and I’m currently battling a flare up of past restrictive eating habits.
For the longest time I couldn’t bear the attention of physically and socially transitioning. And I didn’t feel trans enough. I questioned why I had to do the emotional labor of explicitly coming out to be seen as non-binary. This has been an ongoing test of my tolerance for vulnerability. I need to be my authentic self for me, but the acknowledgement of others is overwhelming. I am a private person, I don’t have a blog, I keep a written journal. I guard my inner world with ferociousness and have a hard time trusting others. So far most people have been supportive and reached out to let me know so, but others have quietly noted signifiers (like changing my name on social media accounts) without comment. While the attention is exhausting (mostly due to my anxiety in these interactions), the silence of others is more painful. These silences have spurred me to have more in-depth conversations with those who do reach out, to push shame away and invite friends in.
Two days ago, I abruptly hit a wall in my transition journey. But it’s more like that wall had a secret corridor that I’m now turning down, without really slowing down – just taking a moment to look back, and all around me, and then moving on in this other direction. The decision to stop T for the time being doesn’t actually mean that I’m losing forward momentum. I was expecting it all along. At some point. At the same time, it wasn’t premeditated or planned I just realized, now is the time, all of a sudden, and then I mentioned it to my spouse, and that was that.
The number one reason to stop, for now, is ongoing concerns of losing my head hair. And the number two reason is that uncomfortable sensation of feeling overheated, which is much less welcomed as warm weather approaches.
I’ve been here before. That was, specifically, January of 2016. I feel so grateful to my past self for so diligently recording where I was at, every step of the way, so that I can get super specific about where I was vs. where I am! It feels like a coherent narrative, of sorts. In the fall of 2015, I had been on Androgel for roughly a year and a half, and I had lost sight of why I was doing it and what, exactly, was it doing for me. I switched doses, I went off-and-on, and then in January of 2016, I just went off all together. I ended up being off T for one full year. And then I tried out injections, which I’ve been on now for over 2 years.
And now, again, I’ve lost sight. I’ve been worried, daily, lately, about my receding hairline, and I can’t make sense of all the numerous products on the market to help that. Rogaine, Finasteride, DHT suppressants, etc. Instead of figuring out what might help, it just makes more sense for me to go off T, until I feel differently, which I know I will, again, at some point, in the not-so-distant future.
I do not look forward to getting my period again. That is going to be horrible.
Other than that though, I don’t foresee any major issues. Mental health-wise, I feel super stable and good. I don’t expect that to change much. Oh, also, I’ll be pretty happy about not seeing more and more facial hairs popping up. Not a fan of my own facial hair! I’ll be glad if that stabilizes for a while and I don’t have to think much about it.
I predict (and my predictions have been pretty far off, historically!) that I’l be back on T by November or December. We’ll see! Oh, also I guess I’ll have to tell my endocrinologist. Do I have to go to my upcoming appointment if I’m not taking hormones?! (Answer: No.)
This past Saturday was my two year mark on T-injections, 40ml / week (this was just recently lowered, from 60 – my initial dose was 50). I still very much look forward to every injection (not the act itself, but the being-on-T part), and I still regularly think about the ways hormones have improved my life; I don’t tend to take it for granted.
My original plan was for this to be a short-term thing. But I kind of love it. I think my dose will vary over time, but I don’t anticipate stopping really, probably ever. (Of course that’s subject to change!) Not having a menstrual cycle is huge. Being seen as male 100% of the time is… well, there’s some ambivalence there, but it’s definitely an improvement. Now instead of getting confused for female, I am regularly getting confused for being very young. Which can be awkward but mostly is fine.
I’m able to engage socially in ways I really never could have dreamed of. I look people in the eyes way more. My anxiety is almost zero, where previously, I was operating regularly with an underlying sense of fear and dread. Some of these mental health changes can be attributed to finding a medication that actually works well for me, but a lot of it is the disappearance of gender dysphoria.
I’m still legally female, which is on purpose, and I still almost always go into women’s bathrooms and dressing rooms. I’ve never been stopped or questioned.
I don’t love all of it. I still daily pluck hairs out of my face because I don’t like them and I don’t want to shave. I’m pretty concerned about my receding hairline. And if I were really being honest, I liked the way my face looked before being on injections, more-so than now. It just so happens that the way it is now reads as “male,” and that works out way better for me. Oh well…
So here are the face comparisons:
I wanted to highlight this change, on testosterone, because I’ve vacillated so much over time, and it seems worth noting. Initially, this was the thing I feared the most. It’s one of the changes that happens early on, is irreversible, and is most noticeable. I wanted to avoid it all together, partially because I wasn’t ready to come out beyond what I was comfortable with (my community and friends). I didn’t want this change to “out me” before I was ready. Also, I didn’t want to tip the gender balance – I wanted to be, over-all, androgynous and not definitively masculine in any way.
When I was on a low dose of Androgel (for over 2 years), I successfully kept things right where I wanted them. Then I went off T completely for a while, and in that time, I started DJing for a community radio station. I didn’t like listening back to my shows at first, so I just didn’t. They felt cringe-worthy. Eventually I started listening, and improving, and switching things up. I started to find my voice, suuuuuuper gradually.
About a year in, I was ready to plunge into T-injections and all the changes that may come along with that, including my voice dropping. I had already come out with family and at work and had changed my name legally, so those things were no longer road-blocks.
It was a bizarre and largely private thing to go through. I don’t talk all that much in my daily life, to begin with, so it was a lot of testing out the changes, daily, in my car alone. And then also the radio show, weekly. I know there were times when my voice cracked, but I haven’t listened back, specifically, for that. I’m sure I could find those moments, in the archives, if I really wanted to. But I don’t! Haha.
Fast forward, and I am super satisfied with my voice as it is now. I have a hard time relating to how tortured I felt about it in the past. Along with increased confidence and comfort with my body and my place in the world, my voice just feels natural. It also just feels so much easier to find words, to converse in all sorts of situations, and to be more out there. It is awesome in so many ways.
In preparing for my 100th radio show, I did go back to those first few shows and listened to them probably for the first time. And they WERE totally cringe-worthy, haha. My voice was stilted and stiff; I sounded so unsure of myself. I did a cool thing where I isolated some of the sound clips from those early shows, and then I played them live, on my 100th show. Here’s me, talking about lunch over the course of a handful of shows, before T-injections, and then me interjecting over top of that – you can really notice the change in my voice that way! Also my best friend was there in the studio – she’s the third voice on this track:
My hair is the longest its ever been. It’s also only 3/8 of an inch, on the sides. I cut and buzz it myself. I’m not sure whether it was a conscious decision (probably partially conscious), but as my face has become more masculine, I’ve grown my hair out in the back so that it falls over my shoulders slightly. Also, it has gotten a lot more curly since I’ve been on testosterone.
I was initially on a low dose of Androgel for a few years, and there were really only 2 reasons that I stopped, in December of 2015: 1) I wasn’t sure what it was doing for me, at that dose, anymore. And 2) Was it causing my hairline to recede? That was totally freaking me out!
Two years later, I was ready to give testosterone another try. The pros I envisioned (lowered voice, redistribution of fat and muscle, heightened libido, bottom growth) outweighed the cons I was pretty sure I’d come up against (feeling hotter, sweatier, potential hair growth and hair loss.) And now that it’s been close to a year and a half, on a “regular” dose of injections, I’m still “in it” with that balance. I don’t love all the changes. But I love some of the changes more than I dislike others.
Hair is a big factor. Probably the biggest factor at this point. I’ll start with the easiest, most fun change:
Happy trail!!! I’ve always wanted a happy trail, and now, finally, I have one. That’s all I got to say about that. It is awesome!!!
Facial Hair: I do not like the increased facial hair at all. I regularly – daily – pluck out chin and moustache hairs with tweezers. I kind of love this activity – it’s satisfying to grab and pull out, one-at-a-time, each hair. However, it’s more and more time-consuming, over time, as I have more to pluck out. In addition, I’m sure I’m missing a bunch, especially finer hairs that can be seen in the sunlight. Is this OK? I guess for now, but it is a fine balance. You know that old belief that may or may not be true? That if you shave, the hairs will come back in thicker and darker? I kinda believe that. I don’t want to take that chance with my face. Also, I’m not ruling out electrolysis, as a long-term solution, if it really feels that overwhelming in the future.
Hairline: My hairline has definitely changed since being on testosterone. I have a much more pronounced “widow’s peak.” This is worrisome. Balding definitely runs in my family. I feel vain about it. As of now, I just arrange the curls on the top of my head so that they fall forward, curly bangs covering up male pattern baldness. But I’m not sure if I get to do this forever. Probably not.
I also got some hair growth going on in other parts of my body, like my lower back and legs – all this feels neutral and natural. I’m neither bothered nor excited about it.
I’m actually leaning toward lowering my dose now, as it gets warmer out. I don’t want to feel overheated and smelly and sweaty. And if a lower dose will slow some of the balding down, I’d probably feel better about it. As long as my menstrual cycle doesn’t come back – that’s the balance I’m aiming for right now… I’m sure I’ll feel differently at other points as well, but this is where I’m at.
Today is a year on T-injections, 50ml / week. I’d been on Androgel prior to this – from March 2013 to November 2015. During that time, I didn’t experience many physical changes at all, which was what I was looking for at the time. And it’s kind of the reason I stopped too – it became unclear what the purpose was, as if it didn’t make much difference whether I was on the gel or not.
So for that whole next year, I was trying to square away other elements of my transition, not sure whether I’d get back on testosterone or not. It just felt like I wanted to get top surgery, change my name, and transition further socially before I would potentially want to pursue a level of hormones that would definitely change things in a noticeable way. In the summer of 2016, it started to feel like the next step. I was still pretty regularly seen as female everywhere, and more than anything, I wanted to be more firmly planted in the middle.
It took about 6 months to get an appointment and get started on injections. I was doing intramuscular injections at first for about 9 months, and not liking it. The need to get psyched up in order to jab in the needle was not fun. When my endocrinologist gave me the option to switch to subcutaneous, I jumped at tat. I am loving this method. I wrote about making the switch here: 9 months on T-injections
I like being on this dose of testosterone a lot more than I thought I would. The only aspects I’m not liking are the facial hair growth and the loss of a sense of smell.
I would say that I am seen as male more than I am seen as female, now. That’s huge. I don’t want that to tip too far in that direction, but so far, so good. I’m still legally female, and I still almost always go into women’s bathrooms and dressing rooms. I’ve never been stopped or questioned.
There are a lot of changes I could write about in depth, but right now I feel like focusing on my voice. When I started Androgel, I was overly anxious about my voice changing, in particular. I think it dropped ever-so-slightly, and I freaked out and lowered my dose even further. And that worked – it didn’t change any further. When I started injections, I was aware that my voice would probably be the most noticeable thing changing, early on. And I was OK with that – something had shifted over the years.
I’m a DJ on a free form community radio station, and I’ve done an hour-long show regularly every week for the past two years. It’s been a total blast. And, it’s been a way to effortlessly track the changes in my voice. When I hear pre-T recordings, my reaction is total cringe. Which is quite the shift, since I used to want to “preserve” that register. Now I really hate it! And I love how it’s changed. I can never go back, and I’m totally fine with that!
Aaaand, here’s my face:
I surpassed my best guess at a timeline. When I started in January, I gave the whole venture 6-8 months. I thought I’d start getting uncomfortable with the level of masculinization by that time, and I’d stop. Not for good, just for a while, to level back out, and then most likely start again within another year or two. Something like that. BUT! I really like what’s going on. I like everything except for the facial hair growth, and that’s been pretty minimal thus far. Minimal enough to manage, without having to shave. I like my voice, the muscle growth, legs getting hairier, and clit growth. I haven’t noticed my hairline receding any further than it already has (I was on a low dose of gel for 3 years and saw my hairline change). And I really really really like the cessation of menses. I never had severe symptoms with that, but having it as one less thing, showing up to deal with, cyclically, is a really big plus.
Today was also my 3rd appointment with an endo, and I have a new one now (the one I started with moved to Oregon). I liked her immediately. She wrote down notes. She was curious if my psychiatrist sees other trans-patients, and if I like her, so that she can have someone to refer others to. Same with my therapist. She wanted to know about my experience with my top surgeon. I gave her my full report. She just seemed to really want to get a grasp on who’s who within trans-health, and to glean a lot of that information from actual patients, which felt really validating.
I asked her questions about needle gauges, and she asked me if I was interested in sub-cutaneous injecting. I said, “yes!” even though I hadn’t thought about bringing this up in particular, in advance. It’s just something I’ve heard other trans-people on testosterone talk about as an easier and less painful route. But I assumed it was something totally different, like a different style needle, possibly a different type of oil, etc. I learned it’s not – you just use a significantly smaller needle, and inject it into fat instead of muscle.
This next paragraph is going to be kinda graphic, heads up if you have a needle phobia! So, imagine using a fairly long and thick needle and just jabbing that straight down into your quad muscle, perpendicularly. And then having to push the oil out of the syringe, which does take some force because the oil is thick. This has been painful, to varying degrees, and often there is blood. Sometimes my muscle is sore that night and into the next day. Now, instead!!! I’m gonna get to use a thinner needle, and just slide that in at an angle, but fairly parallel with the skin. It’ll only have to go in a half inch or so, not one-and-a-half inches. It’ll still be hard to push the oil out and in, but just the fact that it’s a layer of fat and not a thick meaty muscle sounds pretty good to me! I can’t wait to switch over! I’ll have to watch some videos or something. The endo did suggest I could come in and a nurse practitioner could show me, but I think I got it.
The one thing about the appointment that felt a little off was she gave me a quick exam, with all my clothes on. This was in itself was fine, although I was caught a little off guard.. She checked my lymph nodes, breathing, throat, etc. Then she said to lay down, and even though I was wearing a t-shirt and hoodie zipped up all the way, she kind of put her hands under there and said she wanted to take a look at my chest. Maybe she could have asked. I probably would have said sure. But she was like, touching my nipples and commenting on skin retraction. And it felt weird. It’s not like it was lingering in a bad way. I pretty much immediately got over it. It was just very unexpected.
And, like always, here’s my face:
This actually happened a few months ago – she was fired from a nearby college on May 24th. It’s only now hitting larger news outlets because there are now three state-level civil rights complaints, trying to get her re-instated. I read about it in the newspaper while at work, yesterday.
She was treating transgender students who came to her with a previous diagnosis. She was definitely qualified to do so, having gone through many hours of training in trans-health care, attending a conference sponsored by WPATH (World Professional Association for Transgender Health), etc. She was doing this at the college’s expense, which just makes it seem like it was condoned by the college, right?!!
WPATH’s stance is, “With appropriate training, …hormone therapy can be managed by a variety of providers, including nurse practitioners, physician assistants, and primary care physicians.” Apparently, this was outside the scope of what the Student Health Center did, but this was never communicated to her. The termination came from out of the blue.
Hormones are prescribed for other reasons at the health center, with no problem. Birth control, ovarian disease, and low testosterone are all treated regularly.
Interestingly, the information on the Student Health Center’s website changed two months after her firing: While it had said, “comprehensive primary care,” and “continuity of care,” it now says, “basic primary care” and has no mention of continuous care. At least they’re being accurate about the downgrade???
This just angers me to no end because this doctor took it upon herself to step it up and become well versed in an area that, for whatever reason, makes so many medical professionals so squeamish and stand-offish. And if this was something she did of her own volition, and it was well within the standards of care, then back it up! What was the university afraid of? There are standards in this field, despite the fact that the medical professions are grotesquely behind the curve with this, in general. A bunch of transgender students were left in the lurch.
The college’s associate vice president of student wellness was quoted as saying, “We are fortunate to be situated in [city], where there is a strong medical community rich with resources.” As if to say that students can just go elsewhere. I’ve tried “elsewhere” around here, as an adult, and it was a super-frustrating process. If I think back to who I was at age 18 or 19, disrupted care at the on-campus center in this regard would have definitely sent me into a tailspin and/or mental health crisis. I would have felt like I didn’t have the means or psychic energy to find out another path. I would have felt deeply cut, in a personal way, by my institution’s sudden change in policy.
It just seemed like this college was at the forefront – it could have laid the groundwork for other area places of higher education to follow. And then it just took a huge leap back into the wrong direction. One step forward, two steps back sometimes I guess, right?
I had a bunch of problems with getting continuous care. I was first getting hormones from a sketchy-ass doctor. I finally felt so disgusted with his practice that I sought out another path. I went to one specifically because she was listed as being LGBT friendly and knowledgeable. That ended up being wrong basically – she told me she didn’t know how she had gotten on that resource list. I had to have a pretty heated conversation with her – her stance first was that I could come to her for primary care, but I should continue to get my hormone prescriptions through that other doctor. I told her I wasn’t going to do that. She told me this was beyond her scope and if she had a male patient with low-testosterone, she would not even monitor him for that reason.
We finally landed on a compromise. She would continue to prescribe what I was already at, and she would monitor that. If I wanted to make any changes though, I would have to do that through other means.
When I did want to make other changes, I first got on a long waiting list for an LGBT-specific clinic. I kept hearing negative stories about the quality of care there, so I decided to also try another approach: an endocrinologist. I had to get on a long waiting list for that, as well. I’ve been going there since January, and so far, I’m happy because I don’t have to deal with the PCP anymore. Getting an endo was not like adding yet another medical professional and another series of appointments. It was more like, instead. Unless I get like, a rash or something, then I’d go back to my PCP.
All of this was hard enough, and I am an adult who has worked really hard at advocating for myself. Thinking back to who I was as a student I would have withered under this kind of stress. Students need to be able to access trans-specific care on their campuses. Period.
A note about the lack of specifics in this post: I left out the doctor’s name and the name of the college, city, etc. because that’s been the way I’ve always operated with this blog, in order to keep some anonymity. I’m not sure anymore whether it’s all necessary, but I’m not about to try to figure that out here-and-now. If you’d like specifics and the names of the sources I got a lot of this information from, just leave a comment, and I’ll get back to you!
I have a mild case of trichotillomania. It’s come and gone during different times in my life, and it’s always been specific to the hair on my face, not on my scalp.
Trichotillomania, to paraphrase wikipedia, is an impulse control disorder, also known as “hair pulling.” It’s generally triggered by anxiety and stress, and is usually treated with CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy.)
In the past, I have honed in on eyebrow and eyelash plucking, using my thumbnail and pointer finger-nail as tweezers. It hasn’t been bad over-all, like I still have eyebrows and eyelashes, it’s just that my left eyebrow is a little bit sparse. It’s barely noticeable.
I also would get chin hairs, from time to time, starting in adolescence, and I would pluck those too, with my fingers or tweezers. This was, apparently, “pro-social” behavior, because I was socialized as a female, and therefore, it’s necessary to eradicate any hint of a mustache or “chin whiskers.” ??? I mean, there’s a whole industry just devoted to that – bleaching the “mustache,” laser-hair removal, waxing, etc. Blah!
Still though, I keep pulling those hairs out not as a gendered statement, but rather because I liked the sensation of getting at them from the follicle, that very specific and very minutely visceral feeling of a “pull” away from something rooted underneath some of the layers of the skin. It’s much more satisfying to get them with my fingernails, but I also use tweezers, so I can get ’em all! The reason I’d say it’s within the realm of “trichotillomania” is because I will do this out in public and I can’t seem to get myself to stop. It’s not just in front of my bathroom mirror. It’s during break at work, with people sitting in the same vicinity. It’s during a meeting, because I am bored. It’s during a movie with a stranger sitting two seats away. Etc. Honestly, it doesn’t feel like a big deal. It’s a rough life to be constantly conforming to societal standards, at least in my opinion…
Facial hair, for me, is a hard limit. I do not want a beard. If I have a shadowy mustache, that’s fine by me, but that mustache never stays for very long before I start plucking out each hair individually. It’ll always happen eventually.
Now that I’m on a regular-ish dose of testosterone, I am getting more facial hair. And I just will not give in and shave. First off, I don’t feel like it! I prefer my methods, even if it ends up taking 10 minutes per day – more or less – to “groom” my face. Secondly, I do think that I believe that old wives’ tale, on some level, about the more you shave, the thicker and darker the hairs will fill in. I do not want to do anything that could potentially promote more facial hair growth.
I do realize this is a little bit counter-intuitive (is that the phrase I’m looking for?) Like, most people who are taking testosterone are embracing the full effect, whatever that means for them. But as someone who is non-binary, it’s a little trickier. Like, I like this effect, but this other thing screams “masculine” a little too loudly, and I’m not really feelin’ it. Something to that effect.
If my facial hair growth ever did start to feel unruly / out of my control, and / or the “grooming” ritual were creeping up toward closer to a half hour per day, something like that, I would not rule out laser hair removal At this time, it just seems a little too extreme, expensive, and unnecessary. But, hey, with this kind of journey, sometimes you never know what is coming up next!