Sorry guys. I need to let this out somewhere. You don't even have to read or reply.
Only recently, have I become so worried about my gyne. I've come to the conclusion that it's not going away on it's own. It's almost as if I'd rather give up on life than do anything about it. My thoughts are always 'If I were dead, I wouldn't care that I am dead, because I'm dead. I won't have to deal with anything.'
I always feel like crying. I look good, very very good. Everything's perfect except my chest. 'Cause one imperfection like this, or one thing abnormal in me like that effects me so much.
This is happening to me at the worst possible time. I'm 16. For the first time, there's a girl I like, who likes me. I have to deal with this. My chest recently became more noticable. Nobody's said anything. I haven't said anything. I don't want anybody to say ANYTHING.
I've got so much to concentrate on too. I'm not going into details, but it has a lot to do with school, and my stupidity. I have one year, the last year in high school to get into Business, in University.
I don't do any drugs, never have. For the past 2 years, I've been skipping classes, and going home and just sit there, do nothing. I'm waiting for grade 12, when school 'counts'. I'm not stimulated at school. I hate school, except for people. I love people, even the assholes and the pricks. They're all great.
I stopped believing in anything. My parents, and everyone in my family is Christian. Orthodox. I refuse to believe any of it. Nothing.
I seem to have too much pressure on myself. My teeth are a little crooked. I don't want braces, because nobody my age has braces. I want, Invisalign. Yes, this new way of straightening your teeth. I want it because it's INVISIBLE. I want to look the best I can. Right now, I can only tolerate myself. I can't take a shirt off. Never. I did in the ocean on March Break. That was fun. But it's gotten worse. So no.
So now that my 'moobs' have become more noticable, they have become something else to worry about. Something else to skip school for. Something else that'll ultimately stop me from having a teenage life, and a future. Just because I'm worried about what people think of me. I've been working out slightly so I look better for when school starts. I don't really need to work out. But I do, and I will. Sadly, me working on my chest, to make it look better, leads to not looking better. I have gyne, what can I say?
Plus! Tighter clothing is my thing. Especially t-shirts. Apparently I have to buy new shit. I'll be the kid with the baggy shirt with no sun-tan and the tight pants. Great.
I haven't told my parents. I don't think I'll be able to tell them to their face. This is why I asked my mom to make me a Doctor's appointment. She asks why. I say, oh ummm, you know, I think I need a check-up. I'm planning on sending her out of the room when I go in. This has never happened. I've never had to tell her not to be in the room. I'm going to have to tell my Doc what's up. I'll tell him my knowledge of gynecomastia. I'll see if he knows as much as me. Hopefully he knows more. HOPEFULLY, he won't send me home crying. Crying because he's telling me to wait. Wait 'till I'm older. That's right. Because I can just see that coming.
I see pictures of people here, whose conditions are worse than mine. Then I see replies like, "That's nothing! Don't worry about it!".
I get all tense inside. I want to be like everyone else. Like one of my friends. They were 'blessed', and they don't have what I have.
I hate having something I have no control over. Do I deserve it? Do any of us deserve it? I'm guilty. I'm guilty because I went through puberty. The way I see it, I have a sentence to life in t-shirt, with gyne.
Surgery. Oh sweet surgery. Money money money. My family can pay for it. That's not the problem. I just don't want to leave, and have to wait to heal. People will be saying where's Cookie? I wonder why he can't hang out tomorrow... or why we haven't jammed for a while. I'd Have to explain why I went for surgery. This possible girlfriend of mine... she'll invite me to snowboard. I'll say no, because I am healing. She'll have to know why. But will she understand? I don't know. And who says surgery will go well? What if I turn out to be the one who does not turn out? I seem to be lucky enough getting these damn things in the first place. What if it goes well, but there's one slight problem, and I have to go back? It's a fucking hassle. I'm afraid of going in, and doing what needs to be done, then coming out, and it's not done. Then go through the process again, hooray! I doubt I'd come back properly even if it's successful. I'll never ever be like my friends. The normal guys with the naturally contoured chest. Their chest will change with their body as the grow, or shrink. But will mine? Of course it'll be better, but it will not be the true image.
I think that's all I have to say. I feel a bit better. Sorry. Really sorry.