Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness

Me yesterday: ah shit if there's no gym this week and I won't be there next week, I should do weightlifting on my own

Me today, trying to use the shears normally reserved for trimming edges to deal with ALL the grass that is now too long to mow and impeding Gary's movement through the backyard: "oh apparently my shoulders say this is enough of a workout, I'm good!"

My pecs are sore, heh. And those shoulders!

Speaking of them, I took a shower afterward (I needed a shower afterward, more proof it's a workout!) and my shoulders felt...different. More muscly? Or differently so? It's hard to tell.

I have a terrible history with my body in general (slightly because of disability, mostly because of fatness), so for decades my mental health has been best when I pay as little attention to my body parts as I can get away with. I'm not sure how to change that now that I might actually be able to extract some neutral or even good feelings from stuff like having different-feeling shoulders.

This has meant I am not recording the physical effects of exogenous hormones in any way more than telling the odd anecdote and most of those are actually about D telling me he's noticed hair (eyebrows, one back hair, most recently he said my tummy was fuzzier and I was delighted because I've always loved guys with fuzzy tummies and wait now I am turning into one??). Which is fine, it's not actually mandatory to have a "timeline" for this any more than it is to have one for the other two meds I take. But it does make me wonder if I'm not really picking up any skills that might assist in unlearning the body dysmorphia that I acquired over my whole life.