Amurrica the dutiful

I have confounded medical personnel for years now by insisting I am not on any prescription medications. It’s the only thing about me that is medically abnormal.

What about over the counter?

No.

Supplements? Vitamins?

No.

How about…[slight “gotcha” smirk]…gummies?

No. I don’t take anything. Never have, with the exception of antibiotics when absolutely necessary. I’ve never had anything that didn’t get better with a good IPA.

Until now. I have joined the cool kids and have started hormone replacement therapy. I missed the stampede during menopause, which did indeed feature some obnoxious symptoms, but none of them were half as obnoxious as periods, so I was on board for the whole project au naturel. HRT had a bad reputation back then but now the researchers say they didn’t mean it, and to go ahead on. So why am I taking estrogen?

It’s really nobody’s business. There are many benefits to cronal estrogen including reducing brain fog, increasing bone density, and supporting bladder health. Add in an enhanced sponginess and sense of bonhomie, or, maybe, just maybe, if anyone ever wanted to investigate a person’s personal area, it might be nice to not have to peel the labia apart like they were a stubborn bag of potato chips. Who knows? So many possible reasons. This is private business, just between me and about five hundred Substack readers.

The testosterone element is a little murkier. Counteracting age-related muscle and bone loss, increasing energy, promoting general strength and well-being? Piffle.

I want to know what it feels like to make really bad decisions with great confidence. I’ve made questionable choices before but never with honest conviction. I read the headlines. Why should I continue to tinker daintily around the edges of life when I could be deciding things of huge consequence to the world just by flying by the seat of my big boy pants? Yes, please!

I have thought all along that I was particularly deficient in testosterone and so it was something of a surprise to learn, after initial blood work, that I am right spang in the middle of the normal range, just as I am in all the other tests.

Clearly, I needed to shake things up.

So now here I am after a scant month-and-a-half, and my new blood work is in, and in spite of noticing no effects, ill or otherwise, I have rocketed up to Abnormal High testosterone levels. Boo-yah!

Tell it, Kaiser Permanente! I am ready for This Man’s Army. I am ready to answer the call and deliver maximum lethality and I can already feel my jaw squaring up. War Secretary Hegseth might be dismissive of women and the elderly, but I am here to tell him we are standing by, flexing, with oiled-back hair, ready to dominate. Consider me your M4A1 carbine, Sir, and aim me where you will. I am ready! I feel positively rapey!

And a little pillagey!

And I can see now, from my promontory of testosterone supersufficiency, that we were wrong about rape all along. It isn’t the sin we’ve been duped into believing. It’s the natural order. It’s power. It’s dominance. It’s taking what you want with the tools God and the pharmaceutical industry gave you.

It’s getting a little piece through strength.

My doctor doesn’t get it. The bitch wants me to back off the testosterone a bit. Hell. I’m gon’ kill something first. God bless Secretary Hegseth, and God bless Amurrica.