So what is it, this surgery that I shall be having in a week and half now?

It is a breast reduction. Yes. Might as well get it out of your system now. Laugh a little if you need. Because hey, manboobs are funny. I make jokes about manboobs too. Only, gynecomastia isn’t really funny. It can, in fact, be emotionally crippling.

And it has been for me. All these years of diaries and journals, I have been pretty open about my flaws and fears and phobias. But this is the one thing I have never talked about. All the times I have talked to psychiatrists or therapists or doctors or psychologists, I have never mentioned it. Despite the fact that I’m quite sure that it has played a big part in my social phobia. Why do I feel worthless? Why can I not stand getting attention? Why does it hurt when people look at me?

I don’t know if you can imagine what it’s like. If you’re a girl, then imagine having a penis. Would you take showers with other girls? Would you wear tight pants? Would you ever feel normal?

It goes back as long as I can remember. It goes back when the girls and the boys were still showering together after PE classes. And two of them (can’t remember who) were looking at each other and said “Are you getting breasts yet?”, “No, but Lasse is”.

No wonder I feel like a freak. I am one.

I remember when Denmark won the European Championship in soccer in 1992. I bought a T-shirt with the team on it. Wore it proudly to school. Until people wanted to start looking at it. Looking at me. My chest. I hid behind the long curtains and heard Maria saying “Haha, a boy with breasts”.

I always thought that it was because I was overweight. It was my own fault. Until I saw a program on TV about gynecomastia. That must be 5-6 months ago now. I went to my doctor, wrote him a letter in advance about it. It’s so hard to talk about that I knew I wouldn’t just be able to go and talk to him about it. But sending the letter in advance, then he’d know. And he agreed that it would be good to get something done about it. So he referred me to the hospital. I got x-rays taken to be make sure that there was no cancer or anything. Then I got scheduled for an operation. In January 2006. A long wait. Luckily they have a policy that if they can’t offer you the surgery within two months then they will help you find another hospital or clinic where you can get it done faster. So I was referred to Århus Speciallægecenter. I went there a couple of days ago. And now I have an appointment for surgery on September 7th. Ten days from now.

So there you have it. I can’t really communicate how big a deal it is to me. How painful it has been for me. But you know my situation, right? So if I say that gynecomastia has been a big part of putting me in this situation then you can understand that it is something very big in my life, right?

And I am incredibly happy that something is going to happen about it now. When I was younger I would sometimes think about just grabbing a knife in the kitchen and cutting them off. Maybe I’d die of the blood loss, but so what? It was better than living like this.

I’m trying not to be too optimistic. Because this operation will not make me “normal”. I won’t be slim and beautiful. I will not stop feeling like I am a less worthy person than others. Everything will not be perfect. But just… the thought of being able to put on a shirt without having to stretch it out so it’s as loose as possible. The thought of being able to go into a room and not feel like everyone is staring. The thought of not hating myself. That is a sweet thought.

The operation itself is a little scary. I will be getting general anesthesia. Is that what it’s called? The full thing, going completely under. And then I’ll be at the hospital for a day. And probably be in much pain. But at least they will provide painkillers for the first days. After that I’ll have to get my own panodil. Hah. It’s not exactly going to be fun. But at least I can expect 1-2 weeks off from work. So you gotta look at the bright side. I will get to stay in bed and watch DVDs. It’ll be just like vacation. Only with searing pain, discomfort and shame.

Maybe this is all very weird. I don’t mind being a weirdo, though. I’d just prefer it not to be because of my body. My mind, that is another matter.

It feels kinda nice to talk about it too. The dark, dirty secret that I have been trying to hide for so long. I told Sanne about it on Thursday. I had to tell her that I would be taking some sick leave of course, because of the operation. And she said “Is it okay to ask what it’s for?”. So she sort of gave me the opportunity to not tell her what it was exactly. But I told her. And she was a little surprised. She said she hadn’t noticed anything really, because I always wore loose clothes. I don’t know if she was just being polite though. In my head everyone always notices. In my head there is nothing else they notice. In my head there is a great desire to hide away so no one will notice.

I almost can’t imagine a different life. I hope I will get it though. This, along with therapy and medication and general evolution, could just give me a better future.

I am allowed to hope, at least.

Feel free to ask questions or leave comments. It’s hard for me to know how people will react exactly. But I know you’re all supportive. And I can take jokes too. Because, you know, you gotta be able to see the humour in deep emotional pain. Otherwise you’ll just end up, oh trying to kill yourself or something.

Ugly. Just for reference.

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 28th, 2005 at 21:11 and is filed under Blogging. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.