Compulsion, by Will Stanton

I suppose that it is human nature for many of us to succumb to compulsive behavior.  If we attempted to list every possible form of compulsion, we would be here all day.

Eating certainly is one of the most prevalent compulsions, especially in America.  I once was invited by a 400-pound man to join him and a few others for dim-sung dinner.  I tried to avert my eyes while he ravenously ate multiple courses, along with everything left over from other diners at the table.  I will never subject myself to that kind of disturbing experience again.  America is so notorious for overeating that someone posted on-line a photo-shopped image of Michelangelo's “David” supposedly after visiting here and eating too much American food.

 

Chunky David

I fell pray to overeating for a few years, all because of chronic stress.  My partner died.  He also was my business partner, and I tried to do both jobs.  Further, in our profession, we were required to deal with many people's ongoing problems, which was hard enough.  I also had to be concerned with professional clinical and legal liability.  Worse, most competing clinics were thoroughly corrupt, making tons of money, and stealing away most of my clients.  Big stress.

For a while, a little place close by, B.J.'s Carousel, became the antidote to my own stress.  I must have driven by B.J.'s 10,000 times before someone told me that there was a little restaurant in the back that served solid American-style food at reasonable prices.  In addition, the regular patrons and staff were exceptionally friendly and accommodating.  Frequently, patrons chatted with each other from table to table, fostering a warm, supportive atmosphere.  The restaurant played soft, classical music, rather than the pounding drums and screaming that most restaurants play now-days.  Also in the winter, they had a pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room that made the area very cozy.  That's where I would go to unwind.

Once my evening therapy groups were gone, and I had discussed each person's case with my contract psychologist, and I had prepared the individual sessions notes for the clinical files, I felt drained.  I would jump into my car and race down to B.J.'s, which stayed open late, and order an excess of comfort-food - - meat, potatoes, salad, veggies, and (of course) desert.  This went on for a few years, and I must have been oblivious to the consequence until it became more obvious.  Fortunately, I rarely eat that way now.  The fact that B.J.'s since has shut down probably removed a pit-fall from my path.

Over those many evening dinners and Sunday brunches that I had at B.J.'s, I got to know one of the other regular patrons.  It turns out that this person had a life-long obsession with trains  - - - real trains, model trains, train videos and DVDs, train paintings, train artifacts and clothes.  He even chose what cities in which to work so that he could be around trains.  His compulsion to continually buy train stuff resulted in his living in a house crammed so full that one would need a front-loader to clear it out.  His having a lot of discretionary income in retirement, he could  afford to buy a state-of-the-art Lionel “Big Boy” steam locomotive that lists for $3,000.

Lionel O-gauge model "Big Boy" steam locomotive

I later found out that the front of B.J.'s was a bar that was known as the place where drag-queens could go and to be in occasional drag-shows.  Although popular with some people, I never have had the slightest interest in that phenomenon and don't quite understand the compulsion to dress-up like that.  But, I could not escape noticing them on show-nights when some of them would wander through the back restaurant.  I truly admire natural beauty, but I can't say that any of those individuals fit into that category.  I sense that most of them realize that they never will look like ravishing, natural beauties, and some probably dress up with some sense of satire.  There may be those occasional individuals who do try to look like Hollywood models.  B.J.'s, however, was not Hollywood nor Los Vegas, and I never did see anything appealingly eye-catching.  Instead, homely faces, chunky bodies, big feet, ungraceful movements, and lip-syncing tended to betray any efforts to look truly attractive.

Two-drag-queens

I recall one individual who, from time to time, would come stomping through the restaurant section in a most ungraceful manner, carrying high-heels, on his way to the dressing area.  That poor person's face looked as though he once had suffered a bad case of acne.  Between those pockmarks and his usual grumpy scowl, I might have surmised that this sad person once had worked at McDonald's and possibly had a compulsion to bob for fries.

I suppose that it is inevitable that, wherever there are drag-queens, there is a certain percentage of them who become titillated with the idea of toying with female hormones.  For some time now, I have understood the theory of clinical transgender orientation, and I intellectually can handle that concept.  These are the people who seriously think of themselves as the opposite gender, and their transition is carried out, over time, carefully and seriously, with the assistance and advice of professional doctors and therapists.

However, as naïve as I usually am and until recent years, I was totally unaware of the fact that, throughout the world, there is an amazingly large number of young guys whose compulsion is to take massive doses of female hormone, permanently changing their bodies but with no intention of surgically fully transitioning to female.  They rashly do this with black-market hormones and without the supervision of professional therapists.  Instead, they turn themselves into, what is crudely called, “shemales,” neither male nor female, but individuals with male genitalia and, in addition, breasts, wide hips, and large buttocks.  These are the hybrid individuals who Robin Williams jokingly referred to as “The Swiss Army Knife of Sex.”

Finally made aware of this phenomenon, I have tried to intellectually handle well this phenomenon of hybrid gender, but I have a hard time handling it emotionally.  What disturbs me most is that many of these individuals start out as very good looking young males; yet their masculinity is destroyed forever.  To my personal way of thinking, that is a waste.        

Shemale

I also understand that such unpredictable use of hormones may not always turn out well.  There was one tall, good-looking guy who decided to secretly take hormones.  He told me that he always was afraid that his family might find out.  Oddly enough, his day-job was as a tow-truck driver.  He hid from his coworkers what he was doing by wearing heavy, loose clothes.  Then he would change into women's clothing and go to B.J.'s.  Later, after he had developed breasts, I overheard him lament that he was sorry that he had taken those hormones because now he no longer could take his clothes off and go swimming.

More bizarrely, I saw one evening a short, previously normally built teenager, who had been named  “Miss Teen Queen,” who, from taking hormones, quickly put on a vast amount of weight and ended up with huge, bulging belly, drooping breasts, and bizarrely wide hips.  I found that sight very disturbing.  I was very puzzled as to why that boy had such a irresistible   compulsion to so dramatically change his body.  Did he imagine the results being different?

Then, a skinny, drag-queen waiter told me that he once had considered taking hormones until he saw what happened to one of his friends who had succumbed to that compulsion.  His friend took lots of black-market hormones and then (in the waiter's own words) “really freaked out and totally lost it” when he saw how dramatically his body had changed and also realized that those changes were permanent, especially the expanded bone-structure of his hips.  Just the idea of his doing that to himself freaks me out, especially since the friend obviously never thoroughly thought through what he was doing or sought advice from any therapists.

I guess that the “trains-on-the-brains” guy's compulsion to continually buy model trains, train artifacts and clothes, especially since he has the money to do so, is pretty mild in contrast to the kid who totally freaked out.  At least, compulsive train-guy can trade or sell-off his trains if he wants to.  And as for me, I can fairly safely continue my obsession with classical music by spending an inordinate amount of time playing and listening to good music.  The freaked-out kid, however, will have to live a long time with the all-too obvious consequences of his compulsion.

© 6 October 2015 

About the Author 

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories.  I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.