So yeah, January 10, 1990 ... I remember sitting on the toilet, either going #1 or #2, and scratching my groin. Naturally I looked down ... and, by God, I saw hairs surrounding my dick. I was only 13 at the time, and I remember being absolutely terrified at the changes to my body. I think I was beginning to get obsessed with hairs underneath my arms. I was really frightened by all the hairs that were starting to appear on my legs, and I spent many a time plucking them out. My trichotillomania was a bid to stop my body from rebelling against me. I had heard of this concept called "adolescence" as soon as I started 7th grade, but I didn't pay any attention to sex ed class at school, so I learned about what was about to happen to me through friends and classmates. And it scared the shit out of me. So I vainly hoped to remain looking like the same person I have gotten used to by plucking the fuck out of myself.
But the hair around my cock? Don't know what I could do about that. It's not as if I could pluck all those hairs down there; it'd hurt like hell. I don't know if I saw any dick fur in any of the porn I saw up to that point, but I heard about pubes before I got them myself. No, I was not happy, nor proud that I was "becoming a man." It was the most glaring sign yet that my body was transforming, and in ways that metaphorically dropped me to my knees in fear and sadness and helplessness. It was already a hopeless task to pluck all the hairs on my legs and in my pits. I just knew, once I felt my hair down there, that it was game over for me.
You know, my body is changing in ways I don't understand now, too, just in a different way. Well, I understand why it's changing now -- I'm getting older and I'm not totally watching my diet. That's why my belly has been getting bigger and bigger over the course of the past two decades, and why pants that used to fit me just fine I am now straining to suck my gut in to, then fearing that the button will pop out and fly across the room. (That's happened once or twice to me already.) But I am not confused about what is happening to me now like I was then. Just resigned.
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By the way, I am absolutely certain that in prime time that night, I was watching an episode of Quantum Leap (The Original Series staring Scott Bakula, not the revival that's on right now of which I have seen only a minute) that mirrored my "discovery" later that night. Bakula leaped into the body of a mother whose son is running away because he didn't know what his body was doing -- maybe. In one scene, Bakula was captured by a group of random men, and one of them tore open the front of "his" dress. I'm sure Bakula got out of it without getting assaulted. Anyway, the theme of changing and sexualizing bodies became apt for me that evening when I relieved myself in the bathroom. And it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I have never, ever been the same ever, ever again.
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