More Testosterone

There’s a new breakthrough on the testosterone front: zits. We’re not talking blackheads here; I mean deep, exquisitely tender zits. Real, hormonal zits. They didn’t tell me I’d be going through puberty again at sixty!

And the dreams! Dear Lord. Last night I went to bed kind of expecting something like Tarzan’s Extended Adventures with the Fertility Goddess…or Whoever. And what did I get? Technicolor footage of my ripping great hunks of flesh off the bones of an indeterminate large vertebrate and gobbling them voraciously. I would like to say that this creature had been cooked, but I fear it was just greatly increased hand strength as I think we were both running. Oh please don’t tell the Jungians, or worse yet, the Freudians.

And yes, my appetite, which has never been lacking, is now greater than it’s been in oh, say, three decades.

Luckily, the pain in my feet and legs when I’ve walked half a block is still present, and this acts to some degree to keep all this new energy under control. However, I have advance word from my pharmacist that my doctor, whom I see tomorrow, is going to take me off the med they think responsible for this pain. So I may be running the streets by the weekend.

In the meantime, I remain thankful that I have, at least, been spared a resurgence of libido. Although, I did notice during this morning’s news that President Bush is actually a very hot guy, even though he’s a bit young for me.

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