"Sex on legs." Is what she called me.
Which I had honestly never been called before in my life. Nor had I ever considered the possibility of that description fitting me.
But there it was, plain as day in text message format.
Me: You honestly find me attractive?
Natalie: Are you freakin kidding me?! You're practically sex on legs!
It took me a few minutes to reply. And what followed was admittedly quite awkward on my part but I was new to this. I'd never really flirted with anyone other than my wife before and even then it wasn't anything intensely sexual, more intellectual.
I should probably explain a little before anyone paints me as some kind of cheating scumbag.
My wife Samantha and I have been together since our mid to late teens and married just as both of us turned 20. It was admittedly a bit of a rush but we didn't think I had many years left in me so rushing was the order of the day.
See, since puberty I had been sick on and off (mostly on). Weakness and bed-ridden were my bread and butter. It wasn't a comfortable life but it was all I knew so I kept my spirits up and was always jovial and witty when I had the energy. Which is what attracted Sam to me in the first place. Too this day I'll never understand why such an attractive girl fell for sickly old me but I'm not one to question terrific luck.
My condition would take a while to explain and longer to make sense but it was pretty damn rare and auto-immune. Normally it affected adults but I was lucky enough to get throttled with it pre-puberty.
The end result wasn't kind to my body and while I still managed to grow reasonably tall I was nothing but hairless-skin and bones.
The doctors had predicted an end date roughly in my very early 20s so, at 22, when a new doctor came bursting onto the scene shouting things like 'Revolutionary experimental treatment' and 'Effective but risky', Sam and I decided that maybe it was time to take whatever rotten eggs we had left and drop them all into the same basket.
Again, I could explain the details but it would take way too long. The brief version is that the treatment entailed a combination of stem cells and hormone replacement therapy coupled with frequent intense physical therapy.
They did their best to ease me into it but man was that treatment effective. Soon they were fighting to keep me back when it came to the physical therapy and not long after they just straight up quit trying to stop me.
In a matter of two short years I had gone from measuring up my coffin tux to more than doubling my bodyweight in solid muscle (not a hard task honestly given how emaciated I was).
But as much as I loved the training, I was never showy about it. And while my friends and family made occasional comments they never stroked the area where my ego should be so I never thought of myself as anything other than an average, healthy guy. Which is all I ever wanted from life.
