Testosterone: My Worst Enemy

Testosterone, my worst enemy. As I’m sure it has done with many men, it has lead me to some pretty bad situations. Today I will tell you about two of the more disgusting stories that it has gotten me into.

         The earliest one happened right around Christmas time of ’06. We had our tree up, with all the little shiny tinsel that sparkles with the lights. We had an angel atop the tree, seemly watching us as we tried to look at our presents when we thought no one was looking. We had some of the little glass ornaments that reflect your face all funny. We had red ones, green ones, but the theme that year appeared to be gold, because we had more gold on that tree than El Dorado.

         I had an absurd amount of Pixie Stix, those little packets of colored sugar that are so fun to snort. Then me and my cousin Tim started eating them, two or three at a time. As things progressed it started climbing to five or six. I could feel the tension building in what was going on, and I knew that it was only moments until we got into a competition. And I knew it would be one that I couldn’t lose if I wanted to be respected ever again.

         Then Tim took nine of them and stuck them in his mouth and just began to chug them, so as such, I grabbed ten, and ate them away, just barely making it. We took a momentary break to regain our senses, then he grabbed eleven and just started going too town on the poor things. But I did see him falter, so there was hope for me yet. When I realized it was my turn, I picked up twelve of them. After I did, there were only six left on the table, meaning if I did this, I was the winner. So, I took some scissors and cut across the top of the packets, letting the tops fall to the carpet, getting sugar everywhere. I raised them up too my mouth and began to eat it, I could feel the graininess of the sugar in my throat, and I felt it get all mushy in my mouth when it got wet. At first it was very sweet, and I was enjoying myself, but I couldn’t swallow as fast as the sugar was falling in, and it started piling up. So, then in effort too catch up, I began swallowing bigger and bigger amounts, until it started to get to much, then I felt it all start too come back up. So I took off towards the kitchen, with intentions of getting to the trashcan. But, alas, I could not make it too but the sink. So I stood over the sink, and threw up fifteen dollars worth of pixie stix and some chicken. It just sat there, a rainbow of colors, swirling every which way. Then Kara came up behind me and started laughing, then gagging, then laughing again. Finally, everyone else in the family came, laughing as well, everyone except my grandma. First, I saw I look of shock in her eyes, and then her face turned red. She began to yell at me about how nasty it was to do that in the sink.  But none of us cared; we were all to busy laughing. But I knew I had been defeated and I thought to myself how terrible this is, and how long I’m going to have to deal with the pain of this night. I could not look any one in the eye for the rest of the night, knowing that they would just see me as the kid that can’t hold his pixie stix.



         The latest one happened in the middle of summer last year. I had just gotten off work, so I was tired and not thinking straight when I stopped by the local gas station. I was in the back trying to figure out what I wanted to drink. Then my friend Shane comes in and starts talking to me. In the middle of the conversation I decide to get a half-gallon of chocolate milk. As I pick it up, he turns to me and says “I bet you twenty bucks you can’t drink that and another half-gallon in an hour without puking.” Well, me being me, scoffed at him and grabbed the only other jug left. So, I pay for it, and get in the car, contemplating what kind of decision I just made, because deep down inside I could tell it was going to cost me dearly. Well, I got home, but I didn’t want to start just yet, I thought it would be better if I waited to “clean myself out a bit”.  Well, after a couple hours I decide it can’t wait any more, so I just start going at it. But here is where the problem arose. For some reason, as I started drinking it, I thought I only had thirty minutes as opposed to the hour I actually had. This made me drink even harder. So I’ve downed the first half gallon in a little less than ten minutes. I decided to take a ten minute break then I would go back with the last ten and finish it off. 
         As I sit there hoping the feeling in my stomach to go away, I feel this weird sensation in my throat. That’s when I decide I need to get the trash can. I run the bathroom as fast as my swelled body would let me and grabbed the trashcan just in time to loose load number uno. It was absolutely terrible, as puking should be. But just as I regained myself and could breath right again, I had to unleash another attack on that poor can. While I’m puking, I can actually hear my cousin who was staying with me that night throwing up in the back round because I’m puking. I’m in tears at this point, regretting ever tasting chocolate milk. So, I go again, just all over this poor innocent can, but something was different this time. It was cold. I’d never had anything like this, my puke was cold. I didn’t even know how to respond. I just sat there and accepted that it was going to happen again. And it did. 3 more times, each colder and worse than the last.
         Needless to say I not only lost my 20 bucks, but my love of chocolate milk. I haven’t had it since that fateful day.