Hormone Monster Quotes

The second I encounter his erection, my jaw drops. “Oh my God, are you kidding me?” He looks startled. “What’s wrong?” “Are you taking human growth hormones or something? I snatch my hand back, fighting another rush of nervousness. “There’s no way that huge man monster is fitting inside me!” Garrett’s head abruptly drops in the crook of his arm as a shudder racks his body. At first I think he’s pissed off. Or maybe even crying. It takes several seconds before I realize what’s happening. He’s laughing. Scratch that – he’s in hysterics.

Are you taking human growth hormones or something?” I snatch my hand back, fighting another rush of nervousness. “There’s no way that huge man monster is fitting inside me!

I used to think Romeo and Juliet was the greatest love story ever written. But now that I’m middle-aged, I know better. Oh, Romeo certainly thinks he loves his Juliet. Driven by hormones, he unquestionably lusts for her. But if he loves her, it’s a shallow love. You want proof?” Cagney didn’t wait for Dr. Victor to say yay or nay. “Soon after meeting her for the first time, he realizes he forgot to ask her for her name. Can true love be founded upon such shallow acquaintance? I don’t think so. And at the end, when he thinks she’s dead, he finds no comfort in living out the remainder of his life within the paradigm of his love, at least keeping alive the memory of what they had briefly shared, even if it was no more than illusion, or more accurately, hormonal. “Those of us watching events unfold from the darkness know she merely lies in slumber. But does he seek the reason for her life-like appearance? No. Instead he accuses Death of amorousness, convinced that the ‘lean abhorred monster’ endeavors to keep Juliet in her present state, her cheeks flushed, so that she might cater to his own dissolute desires. But does Romeo hold her in his arms one last time and feel the warmth of her blood still coursing through her veins? Does he pinch her to see if she might awaken? Hold a mirror to her nose to see if her breath fogs it? Once, twice, three times a ‘no.’” Cagney sighed, listened to the leather creak as he shifted his weight in his chair. “No,” he repeated. “His alleged love is so superficial and selfish that he seeks to escape the pain of loss by taking his own life. That’s not love, but obsessive infatuation. Had they wed—Juliet bearing many children, bonding, growing together, the masks of the star-struck teens they once were long ago cast away, basking in the comforting campfire of a love born of a lifetime together, not devoured by the raging forest fire of youth that consumes everything and leaves behind nothing—and she died of natural causes, would Romeo have been so moved to take his own life, or would he have grieved properly, for her loss and not just his own?

The second I encounter his erection, my jaw drops. “Oh my God, are you kidding me?” He looks startled. “What’s wrong?” “Are you taking human growth hormones or something?” I snatch my hand back, fighting another rush of nervousness. “There’s no way that huge man monster is fitting inside me!

It's just such a big commitment," Brandy says, "being a girl, you know. Forever." Taking the hormones. For the rest of her life. The pills, the patches, the injections, for the rest of her life. And what if there was someone, just one person who would love her, who could make her life happy, just the way she was, without the hormones and make-up and the clothes and shoes and surgery? She has to at least look around the world a little.

Love is an elixir, so poets claim, a frothy hormonal brew to cure what's ailing you. Drink it in. Sip it slowly. Savor its peculiar flavour as loneliness and pain all melt away. Dive headlong into the rush, ride the raging river up against the brink, careful not to drown. Drop over the edge. Negotiate your fall, for drug or love or object thrown, one thing is certain. What goes up eventually come down.

The second I encounter his erection, my jaw drops. “Oh my God, are you kidding me?” He looks startled. “What’s wrong?” “Are you taking human growth hormones or something? I snatch my hand back, fighting another rush of nervousness. “There’s no way that huge man monster is fitting inside me!” Garrett’s head abruptly drops in the crook of his arm as a shudder racks his body. At first I think he’s pissed off. Or maybe even crying. It takes several seconds before I realize what’s happening. He’s laughing. Scratch that – he’s in hysterics.

Oh my God, are you kidding me?” He looks startled. “What’s wrong?” “Are you taking human growth hormones or something?” I snatch my hand back, fighting another rush of nervousness. “There’s no way that huge man monster is fitting inside me!

Mom held me towards them. "Isn't she beautiful? Isn't she absolutely beautiful?" Perhaps it was hormones talking; more likely, those were the words of a desperate woman who couldn't fathom the monster she had knit together in her room. But I was her monster, and if she didn't claim me, nobody would.

Researchers have shown that the flooding of stress hormones resulting from a traumatic separation from your parents at a young age kills off so many dendrites and neurons in the brain that it results in permanent psychological and physical changes. One psychiatrist I went to told me that my brain looked like a tree without branches. So I just think about all the children who have been separated from their parents, and there's a lot of us, past and present, and some under more traumatic circumstances than others--like those who are in internment camps right now--and I just imagine us as an army of mutants. We’ve all been touched by this monster, and our brains are forever changed, and we all have trees without branches in there, and what will happen to us? Who will we become? Who will take care of us?

Griffin Hansbury, who was born female but underwent a sex change after graduating from college, has another well-informed view of the powers of testosterone. “The world just changes,” he said. “The most overwhelming feeling was the incredible increase in libido and change in the way I perceived women.” Before the hormone treatments, Hansbury said, an attractive woman in the street would provoke an internal narrative: “She’s attractive. I’d like to meet her.” But after the injections, no more narrative. Any attractive quality in a woman, “nice ankles or something,” was enough to “flood my mind with aggressive pornographic images, just one after another…Everything I looked at, everything I touched turned to sex.” He concluded, “I felt like a monster a lot of the time. It made me understand men. It made me understand adolescent boys a lot.

current sociobiologists and primatologists, such as Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, maintain that loving motherhood is not automatically programmed into the female of our species but is an extremely complex equation of genetic, evolutionary, emotional, and social factors aided by powerful hormonal influences

current sociobiologists and primatologists, such as Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, maintain that loving motherhood is not automatically programmed into the female of our species but is an extremely complex equation of genetic, evolutionary, emotional, and social factors aided by powerful hormonal influences.

Oh my God, are you kidding me?” He looks startled. “What’s wrong?” “Are you taking human growth hormones or something?” I snatch my hand back, fighting another rush of nervousness. “There’s no way that huge man monster is fitting inside me!

What are you selling? Some mantra about staying positive in a house with two hormonal girl-monsters? A motivational meme you pilfered from the internet and slapped your logo on? Don’t take this the wrong way, but why is that woman grinning like she just met Beyonce?

She said it’s because the testosterone levels in my body are too high and it’s messing up my hormonal cycle. She told me it might be better to switch from the shot to pills, but that would mean having my period back, so I refused. And yet I’ve continued at the pace that I’ve become accustomed to and go beyond the mental cage my mind designed for me.

Hannah “ are you taking human growth hormones or something? There’s no way that huge man Monster is fitting inside me!

At that age, a blanket or toy would work well. Something special from you.” “She needs a woobie,” I chuckled. “Say what?” Sela asked with a raised eyebrow. “I had a security blanket when I was a kid,” I laughed, “and I called it my woobie. That’s what Marella needs, something like a woobie.” I expected the eyerolls and the scoffing, but what I didn’t expect was this stoic, often distant, warrior woman to fall into fits of laughter at my admission of having a security blanket as a child. “Hey,” I choked out, and I motioned to my amazing dragon-kin body and the huge sword on my hip, “I didn’t come out of the womb all studly like this!” This, for some reason, just made her laugh even harder. Pregnancy hormones were fucking weird.