The Return of the Testosterone

As the new training regimen persists and succeeds, I am entering that phase that several friends who have experienced significant weight loss had warned me about: the return of the testosterone.

It's pretty profound. Having been substantially super-sized for the last several years (after a youth of feckless slenderness that I took for granted) I know the physiological explanations for the reduction of the big-T.

Now I'm dropping ballast like a nuclear submarine with a reactor leak. And suddenly: I can feel the testosterone in my veins, sort of like a junkie as he depresses the syringe plunger and feels the cool liquid fire of the smack.

Things taste different, I react differently to sounds and smells and textures. And hugs from pretty girls. Oh yeah, hugs from pretty girls. And the way a woman smells (can I get a "Hoo-hah" from Al Pacino in the back row?). And the way the light plays over her face in the sunlight. And the sway when she walks. And the music of her voice. I better shut up now...

I can see it now as a movie: Viggo Mortensen as the testosterone ("return of the testosterone", get it?).

But seriously, my delight with the diet, which is known in the media as The Paleo Diet, is great. Look out world, the dragon is back. Look for some changes.

I remembered yesterday, for the first time in years, what my other nickname was when I was a manager at CACI. The most common nickname was "the Assassin", as I was called in when someone needed fired and I was to take their place. My presence on your project site usually meant you could clean out your desk now.

The other nickname was "the Smiling Bastard". It was for much the same reason, but there was a certain flair to that nickname. I am a good natured person and one of the least bastardly people you'll meet, and my parents were married when I was conceived and born. But my tendency to smile under stress sometimes made people think I was taking cruel pleasure in being the angel of death for careers.

Thus the name.