Too Much Testosterone Quotes

All right, the alien testosterone right now is a little too much, and I really don’t want to have an alien brawl in my house on top of the broken window and the dead body that came through it.” I took a breath. “But if you two don’t knock it off, I’ll kick both of your asses.

They’re all fucking men,” she said. “Excuse me?” Soren said. “The generals. They’re all fucking men.” “I thought Souther was the only—” “I don’t mean that they all fuck men. I mean they’re all men, the fuckers. How long has it been since a woman was in charge of the armed forces? Not since I came here. So instead, we wind up with another example of what happens to policy when there’s too much testosterone in the room.

I moved quickly, putting myself between the two of them. "Stop it!" I shouted. "I have way too much to worry about right now to also have to pull you two off each other. Jeesh, talk about immature." Both guys kept glaring at each other over my head. "I said, stop it!" And I smacked their chests. That made them blink and shift their attention to me. Now it was my turn to do the glaring. "You know, you two are ridiculous with your puffing up and your testosterone and crap. I mean, I could summon the elements and kick both of your butts." Heath shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. Then he grinned at me, like a cute little boy whose mommy had just yelled at him. "Sorry, Zo. I forget you have some major mojo going on.

It was one of those decisions you make when you have too much testosterone bubbling around in your system, or when you’ve been raised in a culture of ridiculous machismo, as I was.

TMT, too much testosterone. Way more dangerous than TNT.

I wish men weren’t so fucking weak. You make me look bad. I have to answer for all the bullshit you get up to. I have to endure women saying shit like, “Ok, there’s so much testosterone in the air,” when she sees some men fixing a car. I hate it when men go to strip bars. It lowers the rest of us that know if a man has to pay to see a woman naked, he is a loser and probably should get weeded out. I hate having to be put in the same category as with these pieces of shit that wouldn’t make it in the jungle. Little boys in men’s bodies. No wonder women hate them. I do too. Fuck it. I hate all of you. People are disgusting.

Jai pointed at the car. "Get in the car. I'm pissed at you for getting out of it in the first place." Outrage lit through her. "Hey, I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions." "Get in the car, Ari!" Charlie yelled now, his own eyes glittering with anger. Her mouth fell open, her cheeks blazing with indignation as the two men in her life stared at her, their expressions implacable. She made a 'pfft' sound and whirled around, stomping like a child towards the car. "Too much testosterone, infuriating cavemen, need someone else to boss around, stupid jerks..." she kept muttering insults under her breath until Charlie and Jai had cleared the road.

Some people are just born with way too much damn misguided testosterone.

I can imagine you with me in the swamp, helping to raise our sons, shotgun right at your side, everywhere you go.” “Daughters.” “Baby. Really? I’m a manly man and I have manly sperm, the kind that only throws sons. Way, way too much testosterone for the female children. You’re going to have to let that dream go.” “I have my heart set on daughters, so you’re going to have to tone down the male craziness and get the feminine vibe going.

I’d internally combust from hormone overdose if I went anywhere near Hotness right now. Like getting too close to the sun, he’d probably burn me with one of his deadly testosterone rays.’ ‘As if he sensed I was blushing over him that very second, Hotness–or as Eva had dubbed him, Mason Lowe–glanced in our direction and made eye contact. With me. I stopped laughing. Stopped smiling. Pretty much stopped breathing. Gawd, but the boy sure knew how to hold a heated stare.

Lee smiled. “If I were a guy…nothing makes sense until I climax.” “Hallelujah!” Dean exclaimed. Theresa feigned a more feminized tone. “Oh my God! That is good. That is so good! You guys are senseless until you climax.” “Amen to that,” Brenda said. Lee got the heart shot. Dean turned to Brenda. “What you got?” Brenda smiled, held his eyes. “If I were a guy…too much testosterone will probably make me dumb.” The others laughed. Brenda got her shot. “Lyn,” I called and turned to her with a smile. Lyn smiled. “If I were a guy…I’ll put the toilet sit down and flip it back up again just to get the last drop out.

Then she turned away before anybody caught her slack-jawed with admiration. He was not the one, that was her DNA talking, looking for a high-class sperm donor. Every woman in the room with a working ovary probably looked at him and thought, This one. Well, biology was not destiny. The amount of damage somebody that beautiful could do to a woman like her was too much to contemplate. She took another drink to cushion the thought, and said, "He's pretty." "No," Liza said. "That's the point. He's not pretty. David is pretty. That guy looks like an adult." "Okay, he's full of testosterone," Min said.

I became a very timid individual. I became introspective. I wondered what had made me act the way I had acted. Why had I killed my fellow men in war, without any feeling, remorse, or regret? And when the war was over, why did I con­tinue to drink and swagger around and get into fistfights? Why did I like to dish out pain, and why did I take positive delight in the suffering of others? Was I insane? Was it too much testosterone? Women don’t do things like that. The rapacious Will to Power lost its hold on me. Suddenly I began to feel sympathetic to the cares and sufferings of all living creatures. You lose your health and you start thinking this way. Has man become any better since the times of Theog­enes? The world is replete with badness. I’m not talking about that old routine where you drag out the Spanish Inqui­sition, the Holocaust, Joseph Stalin, the Khmer Rouge, etc. It happens in our own backyard. Twentieth-century America is one of the most materially prosperous nations in history. But take a walk through an American prison, a nursing home, the slums where the homeless live in cardboard boxes, a cancer ward. Go to a Vietnam vets’ meeting, or an A.A. meeting, or an Overeaters Anonymous meeting. How hollow and unreal a thing is life, how deceitful are its pleasures, what horrible aspects it possesses. Is the world not rather like a hell, as Schopenhauer, that clearheaded seer—who has helped me transform my suf­fering into an object of understanding—was so quick to point out? They called him a pessimist and dismissed him with a word, but it is peace and self-renewal that I have found in his pages.

Here’s another example that some overworked mothers might find inspiring. We saw in Chapter 2 that being the one who produces the sperm doesn’t dictate, by universal principle, that parenting is out of the portfolio. However, in the case of the rat (as with most mammals), the balance of trade-offs make it more adaptive for males to leave parenting to the mothers. This might tempt us to take it for granted that males, by virtue of their sex, therefore lack the capacity to care for pups. We might well assume that, through sexual selection, they lost or never acquired the biological capacity to parent: that it isn’t “in” their genes, hormones, or neural circuits. That it isn’t in their male nature. But bear in mind that one reliable feature of a male rat’s developmental system is a female rat that does the child care. So what happens when a scientist, under controlled laboratory conditions, simulates a first-wave feminist rodent movement by placing males in cages with pups but no females? Before too long you will see the male “mothering” the infant, in much the same way that females do. Feminism: 1. Sexual selection: nil.

I pull into the driveway outside of my father's house and shut off the engine. I sit behind the wheel for a moment, studying the house. He'd called me last night and demanded that I come over for dinner tonight. Didn't request. He demanded. What struck me though, was that he sounded a lot more stressed out and harried than he did when he interrupted my brunch with Gabby to demand my presence at a “family”dinner. Yeah, that had been a fun night filled with my father and Ian badgering me about my job. For whatever reason, they'd felt compelled to make a concerted effort to belittle what I do –more so than they usually do anyway -- try to undermine my confidence in my ability to teach, and all but demand that I quit and come to work for my father's company. That had been annoying, and although they were more insistent than normal, it's pretty par for the course with those two. They always think they know what's best for me and have no qualms about telling me how to live my life. When he'd called me last night though, and told me to come to dinner tonight, there was something in my father's voice that had rattled me. It took me a while to put a finger on what it was I heard in his voice, but when I figured it out, it really shook me. I heard fear. Outright fear. My father isn't a man who fears much or is easily intimidated. In fact, he's usually the one doing the intimidating. But, something has him really spooked and even though we don't always see eye-to-eye or get along, hearing that fear in his voice scared me. In all my years, I've never known him to sound so downright terrified. With a sigh and a deep sense of foreboding, I climb out of my car and head to the door, trying to steel myself more with each step. Call me psychic, but I have a feeling that this is going to be a long, miserable night. “Good evening, Miss Holly,”Gloria says as she opens the door before I even have a chance to knock. “Nice to see you again.”“It's nice to see you too, Gloria,”I say and smile with genuine affection. Gloria has been with our family for as far back as I can remember. Honestly, after my mother passed away from ovarian cancer, Gloria took a large role in raising me. My father had plunged himself into his work –and had taken Ian under his wing to help groom him to take over the empire one day –leaving me to more or less fend for myself. It was like I was a secondary consideration to them. Because I'm a girl and not part of the testosterone-rich world of construction, neither my father nor Ian took much interest in me or my life. Unless they needed something from me, of course. The only time they really paid any attention to me was when they needed me to pose for family pictures for company literature.

How long has it been since a woman was in charge of the armed forces? Not since I came here. So instead, we wind up with another example of what happens to policy when there's too much testosterone in the room.

I have the greatest respect for conservation biologists. I care very much about conserving the rain forest and the wildlife in Indonesia, but I also found it disheartening. It often feels like you are fighting a losing battle, especially in areas where people depend so heavily on these natural resources for their own survival. After graduation, I decided to return to the original behavioral questions that motivated me. Although monogamy—both social and genetic—is rare in mammals, social monogamy is the norm in birds. Plus, birds are everywhere. I figured that if I turned my attention to studying our feathered friends, I wouldn’t have to spend months on end trying to secure research permits and travel visas from foreign governments. I wouldn’t even have to risk getting bitten by leeches (a constant problem in the Mentawais*). Birds seemed like the perfect choice for my next act. But I didn’t know anyone who studied birds. My PhD was in an anthropology department, without many links to researchers in biology departments. Serendipitously, while applying for dozens of academic jobs, I stumbled across an advertisement for a position managing Dr. Ellen Ketterson’s laboratory at Indiana University. The ad described Ketterson’s long-term project on dark-eyed juncos. Eureka! Birds! At the time, her lab primarily focused on endocrinology methods like hormone assays (a method to measure how much of a hormone is present in blood or other types of biological samples), because they were interested in how testosterone levels influenced behavior. I had no experience with either birds or hormone assays. But I had spent the last several years developing DNA sequencing and genotyping skills, which the Ketterson lab was just starting to use. I hoped that my expertise with fieldwork and genetic work would be seen as beneficial enough to excuse my lack of experience in ornithology and endocrinology. I submitted my application but heard nothing back. After a while, I did something that was a bit terrifying at the time. Of the dozens of academic positions I had applied to, this felt like the right one, so I tried harder. I wrote to Dr. Ketterson again to clarify why I was so interested in the job and why I would be a good fit, even though on paper I seemed completely wrong for it. I described why I wanted to work with birds instead of primates. I explained that I had years of fieldwork experience in challenging environments and could easily learn ornithological methods. I listed my laboratory expertise and elaborated on how beneficial it could be to her research group, and how easily I could learn to do hormone assays and why they were important for my research too. She wrote me back. I got the job.

Someone asked: If we were handed a magic wand and told we could suddenly not be transgender, and instead be placed directly into the body we desired, would we do it? The first guy on the panel, whose name was Adam, said yes, because he was a singer and had made the decision not to take testosterone because it would likely deepen his voice. The second person on the panel also said yes, because she wanted to have a baby someday but wouldn’t be able to because she wasn’t born with a uterus. I’d love to have a baby of my own someday, too, and the audience member’s question made me think of that old dream I’d had with the Good Fairy and her magic wand. But my life had changed so much since then, and all for the better. Before I knew what was happening, I started to tear up right there in front of the whole roomful of people. “I’d break the wand in half,” I said. “I’m proud of who I am.

It's testosterone," Sandra explained. "Too much, the guy's an ape. Too little, he's an ant.

Thanks for going in with me,” I told her. “No problem, there is too much testosterone in the car without you. I’m outnumbered. Besides, coffee sounds perfect,” Nessa, said as she got in line for our drinks. -Cora and Nessa at Starbucks

Shane, I asked you to stay away.” Mitch turned cool eyes on her. “You didn’t tell me you’d talked to your family.” Guilt knifed through her. “Um . . .” “And you didn’t tell me you were screwing a perfect stranger,” Shane said flatly. “Um . . .” She gulped. “Shit, all your talk about independence.” Shane’s expression turned thunderous. “Fucking the first random guy you happen across so he’ll give you a place to stay doesn’t count, Maddie.” Even as anger flared bright inside her, she winced at the words. She opened her mouth to give him hell, but before she could, Mitch turned on her brother, moving faster than she’d ever seen him. Before she could blink, Shane was up against the wall with Mitch’s hand around his throat. “Don’t. Ever. Talk to her like that.” His tone shook with rage and barely contained violence. “Mitch, please.” Maddie ran over to him, gripping his arm to pull him off. It was like trying to move granite. He didn’t even budge. James walked up behind her, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her back as Sam grabbed Mitch’s shoulder. “Let him go, Mitch.” Sam’s voice was calm and controlled. “This isn’t the way to handle the situation.” “Fuck. Off.” Mitch’s tone was like ice. Sam’s fingers tightened. “Trust me on this.” Shane’s face reddened, and Mitch’s hand tightened. Shane gripped the wrist that had him pinned to the wall, but he didn’t attempt to free himself. This struck Maddie as strange. Her oldest brother was a known ass-kicker. Half of Chicago was scared of him. “If you ever talk to her like that again,” Mitch said, in a deadly tone, “I will rip your fucking throat out.” The air shifted, swirling with tension and far too much male testosterone. Maddie’s heart thumped hard against her chest. Shane sputtered. “Mitch, this isn’t going to solve anything,” Sam said. Mitch increased the pressure around Shane’s throat, turning his complexion another shade darker. “Do you understand me?” Shane tugged at Mitch’s wrist, his gaze flashing with what Maddie could only suspect was fury. There was going to be bloodshed soon. James ran his hand up her arm, giving her a squeeze. She pulled away and touched Mitch’s forearm. The muscles were taut under her touch. Inflexible. She said softly, “Mitch, please let him go.” Mitch turned his head to her, unnamed emotion flickering in his eyes. She pleaded silently, and finally, he gave a slight nod. A second later, he released her brother. Shane coughed, bringing his hand up to rub at his neck. Cool as ever, James shook his head as though dealing with a bunch of unruly toddlers.

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In the short term, your body has checks and balances to compensate for too much or too little of any hormone; it’s your system’s long-term response that causes persistent symptoms and chronic conditions. As your hormones try to help your body get balanced again, they may instead overcompensate and create other imbalances. This will impact how much estrogen and testosterone, growth hormones, hunger hormones, stress hormones, fat-burning hormones, energy- and libido-related hormones, and sleep hormones it should be making to amend the situation.

A man with high testosterone, it was understood, was virile, a warrior, a stud. A woman with too much estrogen, on the other hand, was just crazy.

How does insulin resistance lead to PCOS? Too much insulin can impair ovulation and cause your ovaries to make testosterone instead of estrogen. Too much insulin also stimulates your pituitary to make more luteinizing hormone (LH), which stimulates even more androgens. Finally, too much insulin lowers the androgen-binding protein SHBG, which results in even more free testosterone or unbound testosterone.

I don’t want to make too much of androstenedione, though. Testosterone isn’t the only hormone that’s overrated. All hormones are ultimately overrated, as well as poorly understood. But even though we know this mantra, we still get shackled by testosterone and need a new perspective to shake ourselves free.

Booze and Your Boys Hoping to toast some big baby news soon? You might want to consider swapping your accustomed toasting beverage before that big news even comes through, or cutting back on how many toasts you make during conception season. Too much alcohol (as you may have been dismayed to discover at one point or another) can impair a guy’s sexual function—a function you’re now counting on. But worse than that, research indicates that daily heavy drinking can damage sperm as well as reduce their number (in some men, even one or two beers or glasses of wine is enough to temporarily keep the boys down). Too many rounds on a regular basis can also alter testicular function and reduce testosterone levels (not a good scenario when you’re trying to make a baby). Heavy drinking (equivalent to two drinks a day or five drinks in one sitting even once a month) by the dad-to-be during the month prior to conception could also affect your baby’s birthweight. So for best baby-making results, your best bet is to drink only occasionally and lightly—or