I Bled For This Column

I cannot wait to lather up my naked, hairy body in an inflatable pool full of testosterone gel. I have felt testosterone deficient since I was five, when, surrounded by female friends, I spent my days compiling my sticker collection, listening to the Annie sound track, baking in my Easy-Bake Oven and arranging my glass-animal collection. Peggy Fleming had a more masculine childhood than I did.

But I needed to know precisely how unmanly I am, so I went to my doctor to get my T count checked. Unfortunately, my doctor could not administer the test via saliva; he would need...

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