Okay, so here's my deal...
I was a fat 12 year old. From the time I was 12 to like 15, I was a chubby kid - with little boy boobies. Then I got mono for which I was hospitalized and lost all the fat and became skinny-fat. And I still had the roundy nips. I know I still had them because I got thrown in a pool at a party while wearing a polo (alliterative...) when I was like 17, and when I got out this guy said, "Damn, you got some nice titties." Awesome. Then when I was about 21 I decided to get healthy and become a vegetarian. For me that did not mean eating vegetables, it just meant eating a cheese pizza instead of one with pepperoni. I'm 6 feet tall and at that point I was about 195 lbs. Then I went through a period of concluding that the way to lose the excess weight was to essentially starve myself -- I got down to 138 pounds. (This would be a decent time to acknowledge that I clearly have body image issues irrespective of whether or not I have a sincere medical condition.) Where were we? Ah yes...upon looking grey for a while and noticing that I still had no abs and puffy nipples, I decided to hit the gym. I got up to between 155 and 160, which is where I pretty much stay. I still wasn't eating well, but at least I was working out...
For a couple of years I had completely forgotten my belief that my chest was appalling to behold. Then a few months ago a couple of things happened:
I work in television and was asked to do a scene without my shirt. No worries. I'm excellent, this'll be great. When I took my shirt off, there was a brief and huddled producer/director discussion whereupon it was decided that the girl in the scene would still be partially undressed, but perhaps it would be better if I left my shirt on. No other explanation was offered. So...that was weird. Then I started dating a girl I met at the gym. Now, I mention this next part, not to brag, but to offer context and iterate a point I want to reinforce later. -- And maybe to brag a little -- My girlfriend is an underwear model by trade and has a physique like a cartoon character. It's stupid. And shortly after we started dating, she playfully tweaked my chest through my shirt.
Me, "Why did you do that?"
Her, "Because they're cute."
.....................................................................
Did I mention I have a bunch of issues anyway? Yeah, so...I pretty much spent the entire weekend in my house, on the Internet, trying to find the solution to my problem and blowing off a trip to Palm Springs, because, I mean, what? Was I supposed to go sit by the pool now that I knew the world could see my hideous deformity? I think not.
What I found at first blush is that there is this thing called Gynecomastia and that there is an entire website devoted to its discussion. Sweet! Well not so sweet. I became really dismayed at the idea that the only solution to my concern was surgical, and that basically - I'm a freak. But no matter. At least there was a solution and I called a PS in Beverly Hills to set up my consultation. I mean it was gonna be 7 grand, but if $7000 bought me peace of mind, wouldn't it be worth it?
I decided, no.
I instead chose to consult with my GP who specializes in pro athletes, and thus steroids, and thus had surely had seen Gyno before; and a personal trainer who could maybe shed some additional light. And here's what happened:
My GP first just shook his head and told me to lighten up, saying that if I had "breasts" I would know it. I said, "Can't you see what I see?" He said, "Yeah, sure. But you need to stop throwing around the idea that you have Gynecomastia so casually. It's a real condition, and you're behaving like a child..." Offended though I was, I considered his premise and asked him to please run tests on my hormone and endocrine levels anyway. He did - they came back normal, by the by.
The trainer took a look at me and said, "You have too much body fat." I said, "...Come again?" He said, "You have too much body fat and apparently a hearing deficiency." I told him there was no way, I'm a healthy 160 pounds, I work out regularly, etc. He took a pair of calipers and measured my bf % at around 15%. Totally acceptable and totally fine, but he went on to posit a theory of his relating to fat loss, fat storage, and muscle development. He asserted that I wasn't eating enough food to lose the chest and the lower back fat I have continued to hold - pretty much my whole life. He went into an array of explanations too detailed to recount here but it all made enough sense to give it a try.
So about three months ago I started a new agenda in lieu of surgery. Even though the idea of eating more seemed anathema to my goal, and scared me to death, I started eating 5 or 6 meals a day and eating really, really clean. Counting calories, no red meat, free range chicken, fish, adding whey protein, all that stuff. It's a drag, but that's life, isn't it? Also, I began altering my workout routine to focus my lifting equally if not more on my back and shoulders, and my lower body. Intermittent cardio has also been re-instituted.
My results have been that I'm up to 170 lbs and in addition to lowering my bf % to around 10%, my lower back fat has almost completely gone, my upper "two pack" has turned into like a 4 and a half, and most importantly my chest looks like...well...a chest. Now here's the thing, I have no before and after photos to corroborate my point, and frankly the right side of my chest is still a little "puffier" than the left. But I can see the difference, I feel better, and most of all I'm happier all the way around. Endorphins maybe, who knows. -- I just had my 28th birthday and my mom sent me picture of me on my 7th birthday. I was shirtless and wearing a cowboy hat. I dunno what the hell was going on at that party...but the point is this - I'll never look like that flat chested little kid again, and y'know what else? As I get older, my knees are gonna go, as will my vision, my hair, what's left of my sanity...whatever. That's the way it is.
I am by no means condemning plastic surgery (I live in LA for crying out loud), nor am I deriding anyone on this board seeking solace. I mean I'm here too. I'm just saying the following things...
1) Apropos of the point I made much earlier, I had a beautiful girlfriend and a fine life before I became hyper-obsessed and made these changes. I think seeing the good in what you have is important and noting how few posts are in the "Acceptance" section of this board, it may be a point to be recalled from time to time.
2) There are men on this site with a genuine medical concern. There are also, I think, many of us who come here just to be confirmed or denied in our neuroses by people we've never met. Support and encouragement is a critical and essential thing, but in a reflection of my 1st point - wondering and obsessing is no substitute for action.
and
3) I'm not saying that you should do what I did or that it will, in fact, work for you. I don't know you. But now you know my whole, long, boring story. I feel certain some people may identify with it or at least parts. If so, I would encourage trying the health/diet/true diligence thing 1st. If you've lived this long, what can a few months hurt? And besides, if surgery is to be your final option, wouldn't it be great to feel fit while recuperating so that when you're all patched up you can see the complete picture in the mirror and feel proud?
Or not. It's up to you. These are just my thoughts on an afternoon where I have a slight cold and am sitting in my living room with nothing on Tivo.
If you read this whole thing - well - good on ya.
Be well, be safe, and be happy...
Topic: Non Surgical (Read 5560 times)
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