My name is Steve, I'm 31 years old and have struggled with gynecomastia since I was in my early teens.
I discovered my first love at an early age. I was practically born for the water. Beaches, lakes, pools- I was always trying to get to water. I spent my childhood summers at the lake, waterskiing, tubing, swimming for hours and hours on end. I joined a competitive swim team at eleven, and promptly built my portfolio of amateur first and second place ribbons for a couple of years. As I entered puberty, I discovered that water was no longer my thing. In fact, going anywhere with the possibility of water was no longer my thing. I dropped water entirely and became pasty white as I relegated to computer games and other nerdery, secluding myself and finding alternative activities that didn't involve any shirtlessness, rapid vertical movement, or cling-causing sweat. As I languished and gained weight from my fears and choices, I searched desperately for some activity- any activity- that would fulfill my needs to be outside and doing something. I found a little activity in rollerblading; the gentle gliding didn't cause too much movement under my shirt and the air whipping across my body kept my shirt relatively dry. I rollerbladed for a few years, until I got to high school and was informed it was gay to rollerblade.
When I entered high school, I picked up marching drums. Percussion was my second love. The drum harnesses were a little... Unflattering, but when I was in a show my uniform top covered my harness and chest. Our drumline was fantastic. Rivaled many higher-level marching corps. I really got a rush out of hearing the six-bass drum line playing spread sextuplets in perfect time. The best part about competitive marching wasn't the music though- it was that competitive marching was so physical the school district allowed it to be counted as a PE credit. I didn't have to endure a single high school locker room. Near the end of high school, I moved to Denver. Marching didn't count as PE here. I had to come up with a way to get around the PE credit. I managed to be successful... Somehow. I quit drumming.
After high school, I got a job. I started a career. Pretty early in my career I discovered that 1) white button-downs required an undershirt and 2) the heavier fabrics of business attire hid my embarrassment. I was pretty happy to have found a place where I could live my life without too much trouble from my self-consciousness. I never, ever wore a knit polo shirt without a compressing undershirt. In fact, a time came where I stopped wearing polo shirts altogether. I was always careful with how I sat in my chair, never reaching or stretching, always maintaining a posture that would prevent me from feeling like I was sticking my boobs out. Sometimes there would be a headwind when walking from my car to my office front door. I would turn and walk the long way around the block so the wind would be at my back when I reached the revolving doors.
At one point, I was in a long term relationship and my confidence was building, and for awhile I stopped caring about wearing an undershirt at all times. The relationship effectively ended when at one point my girlfriend said about my nearly-opaque-but-not-opaque-enough-apparently white shirt, "you have to wear an undershirt with that, you can see your nipples." She was done. I was done.
Having breasts has seriously fucked with my personality my entire life. Completely contradicting who I am, and causing roller coaster emotions and leaving plenty of unanswered questions.
This story goes on, and it is the same as many men have felt. My story is not unique, but it is my life. I'm thirty one now, and I finally had saved enough cash to buy myself some hope. Or at least to buy the hope of having hope.
I went to Dr Albin in Denver. He listened quietly and patiently to this story. We talked candidly and directly about what he could do, what my options were and what I should expect. His staff was courteous and discreet, and very understanding that the people who come to see them need help.
It wasn't three days after my initial consultation that I booked my surgery. Dr Albin's attitude, confidence and steady hands sold me. I'm not going to lie, Dr Albin is no spring chicken. I had my concerns before I met him about his dexterity and abilities. After my consultation I was convinced his hand would be steady and his interests were my own- he wasn't turning a patient out, he was carving a new life.
The price was on par, but wasn't the absolute best, but I wasn't going to choose a different surgeon. Pre-op, post-op, and every stage in between he was there to help and answer all my questions and concerns. The incisions cleaned up very well, and over time the nerves are reconnecting as the scar tissue heals.
While my body is recovering, my mind is also coming to terms with my new appearance. This summer I went to the lake for the first time in practically a lifetime. Turns out I'm pretty good at wake boarding. The extra weight I've carried my whole life is coming off as I find more and more activities I can do without my fears crushing me. My posture is changing and improving- the tension in my shoulders and pot belly on my gut is slowly disappearing, as I pull my shoulders back and finally stand tall. My commute to work is five minutes shorter now. I bought five new polo shirts this summer. Polo shirts are awesome.
Dr Albin is the surgeon you want on your side when it comes time to make this transformation. My only wish is that I had discovered the stories on this site, the information about my condition and options for surgery when I was much younger. The best part is, this new Me gets a second chance. Thanks, Dr. Albin.
Topic: My life, my experience and how Dr Albin helped me find Me. (Read 2352 times)
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