So you think I’m good at this, you know talking about XXY, Klinefelter’s syndrome, and sex in general?

Do I NEED your support, sorry no. I have learned to live life alone, I don’t NEED anybody!

It’s probably a bad thing being self reliant, resourceful, talented, intelligent, need I go on?

If someone gets an honour from the Queen of England does it come before that persons professional title or after? Like Dame Margret Sparrow, is she Dame Dr, or Dr Dame?

More than just I am confused about that. If you’re a Sir, your wife if she’s female automatically becomes a Dame. But if you’re a Dame, like my aunt Dame Dorothy Fraser, her husband didn’t automatically become a Sir, is that weird or what?

Anyway I met Dame Dr Margret Sparrow at the old Wainuiomata College in the mid 1970’s. She was giving a talk on SEX, Sex Education precisely. Of course I thought I knew it all, I had an O Level in Human Biology, of course I knew it all, and I was young enough to say so! 🙂 The only thing I can remember of the talk was going into the School Hall, parents were separated form their offspring so that when the ‘group discussions’ started family members were not together.

A talk about sex and that’s all I can remember! That must have been 1975. It’s amazing how thoughts get concentrated by certain events at a certain time of life. 1975 was a nothing. Life began for real in 1976:

My Karyotype

I’m not the only XXY man who’s met Dr Dame Margret Sparrow. Both these two have met her too:

Michael Noble  & David Strachan XXY

And if you click on the this link you’ll be taken to the article they’re both mentioned in, or co-authored, or something? It’s all very interesting how all the same names pop up as the old groups fade away, and the new groups form. New people coming forward to espouse their curious understanding of genetics and endocrine disease are very rare.

Here is David Strachan again associated with AIC & Mani Mitchell, a few years later, just recently actually, promoting the Intersexions documentary, full of absolute drivel from the XXY men featured in it:
David Strachan & Mani Mitchell

What else besides being XXY do these two have in common, they both think they’re intersex, and they’re both homosexual. Gavan Coleman says he’s intersex too, does that get you wondering? Of course I say sexuality has nothing to do with chromosomes, or genes, or genetic influence, it’s all about choice. People who NEED to justify their CHOICES, NEED a genetic argument. They’ll have to look elsewhere, maybe it’s on an autosome, the homosexual gene?

Maybe it’s one of the genes predicted to be functioning on the inactivated X? I do say it’s outrageous to assume all XXY men have the exact same active genes functioning on the inactivated X, so why can’t this gene that causes homosexuality be on the inactivated X, or the activated X, or the Y? 😛 So is the homosexual gene for XY males on their mothers X, as we know they got their Y from their father! Do XXY men who claim they’re intersex, and are homosexual, KNOW for certain which parent provided their other X? I can’t say ‘inactivated X’ in this instance as it may be a gene on the active X, who knows?

I think I know, considering the number of boys in puberty who approached me for sex at Fernlea School, and Parkway Intermediate, and it was very enjoyable too, and later at Hendon Senior High School in London. Having sex with boys is definitely something all boys do, it’s just a part of life. Absolutely normal sexual behaviour.

You can always search the parents websites all over the internet, where ‘worried’ parents ask questions about masturbation, and seek justification for punishing their boys they caught masturbating with other boys! I wonder why they just don’t think back to their own puberty to know why boys do such things? It’s really enjoyable! Later, when girls become available, masturbating with them is really enjoyable too! As Quentin Crisp once said “Intercourse is a poor substitute for masturbation.”

From the DVD “Bad Education

Gee, I wonder if these boys were XXY too? 😛 Of course this is a fictional story, but I’m sure there must be some reason the original author included it in his film?

Discourse of Contradiction

I suppose the problem for XXY men really is they don’t have the facilities mentally to ask questions when they’re confused.

“The New Zealand Klinefelter Association (NZKA) was also established by the parents of sex chromosome variant children and adults born with at least one additional ‘sex’ chromosome.*”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 2

The NZKA was established by me and my then wife. End of story. Get facts, try hard!

[You see this here Michael, your little astrix note “* When referring to the additional chromosomes, I will refer to them as ‘sex’ chromosomes for convenience sake in order to distinguish them from other chromosomes.

Here’s some news for you, THERE ARE ONLY SEX CHROMOSOMES, all the rest are called AUTOSOMES. I can go in to detail as to why that is, but I think it will go way over your head. You need to research it for yourself. You NEED to edit your unpublished document, you make yourself look like a fool.]

I had assistance from CCS (formerly known as the Crippled Childrern’s Society), and various other professionals in the field of psychology and education, all the names of which escape me at this particular moment. Verna C. Raab, Educational Psychologist, from Canada, her best friend involved in some kind of secretarial work at Tairawheti Polytechnic, Veronica somebody? Other people too. Inland Revenue, they helped me write the Deed of Trust, the document that governed what we did and how we did it. So it had to be written as all inclusively as possible, without breaching the rules. You try doing that Michael Noble, write a thesis on it, see how far you get!

It was really hard to get people involved anyway, XXY men are generally unreliable, the parents of the boys are generally one eyed, the boys are too young. At the time we got going, we weren’t a charity, we were just a bunch of talented individuals, and there was only 1 XXY guy who was the driving force. I only know of 1 XXY guy who’s ever been a driving force, most of the rest are just groaning, moaning, lazy, miserable, little bastards!

It’s really hard work establishing a charity in New Zealand. Not that Michael Noble has ever attempted anything of the sort himself. He’s way too busy writing shit about people from his position of complete ignorance!

Helen, somebody, her son was the boy with Prader-Willi too, she was excellent help. One of the best parents of an XXY boy I’ve ever met, anywhere.

I couldn’t give a toss then, or now, what your sexuality is, what your gender is, who you fuck Michael Noble, it’s not important. You’re not important. You don’t have and never did have educational difficulty. You’re not a child missing out on an education, you never were. It’s the next generation that is important, getting them diagnosed early, they might even have sperms that can be collected and stored, if they’re found early? But you don’t give a shit about them do you, all you bullshit artists only care about yourselves, your gender expression, and your sexuality.

“Five years later, the NZKA Board changed the organisation’s name to the New Zealand Sex Chromosome Society (NZSCS) because, over the years, the Association had embraced other sex chromosome conditions such as Turners and Fragile X.”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 2

In reality we had to change our Deed of Trust to incorporate all the things we were doing that we were technically not allowed to do, according to law! Since we were always an information group, providing information first and foremost, not a support group, it seemed to the Board a logical step to do. Any information about Fragile X or X0 you don’t need to know, they’re not your sex and not your gender! They appreciate information. That you don’t appreciate them getting information just goes to show how selfish you are, and what I did with my time, and my money, was my business. Being questioned by some Australian git who wasn’t even a member, nor took the time to write an introduction, is hardly likely to be taken seriously.

“The Klinefelter community initially established these web pages for the purpose of distilling complex scientific literature into easily understood or popular narratives, while providing communication services for the discussion of issues relevant to the Klinefelter/XXY communities. They have achieved this, either by lobbying medical facilities and specialists into publishing popular information booklets and articles, or non-medical members have published their own articles based on their interpretation of the scientific literature.”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 2

We achieved something did we Michael Noble, that’s so good of you to say so. I got on TV, I did a huge amount, and EVERYTHING published on our website that was not OPINION, was vetted by John W Delahunt, Endocrinologist, or Johannes Nielsen, Researcher. It was medical data put in layman’s terms. We had a unique website. It was brilliant. There was no ‘patient or Board Member interpretation of medical literature’ it was all medical interpretation, thanks for asking!

The booklet “Understanding Klinefelter’s Syndrome – a Guide for XXY males and their families.” I’m the driving force behind the publication of that in New Zealand too. I still needed and got other people’s assistance, like Robert Bock the author, who almost made me reproduce it here. Unlike your crap there’s no copyright on it, it’s royalty free. So off you go smart arse, let’s see you do one for Australia. It will cost money and I won’t be lifting a finger to support you. Any one of you wankers out there who think you can do better are free to try. All you have to do is raise the money to pay for it, that should be a breeze as you’re so clever.

“….Rather, it is an attempt to undertake a very general socio-linguistic survey of the medical and popular discourses, in order to examine the representation of Klinefelter Syndrome/ XXY, and briefly link the discourses to issues such as the representation of sex, gender, sexuality and identity….”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 3

The above is the reason for Michael Noble’s paper, which is basically asserting his sexuality and the sexuality of other XXY men who claim they’re intersex, on the basis of their collective lies about their individual treatment, as if their lies were indicative of treatment over all. Michael Noble says he knows nothing of the therapy options, and it is his idea that one needs a University Degree in order to comment, attempting to shut down debate, like many of his crackpot colleagues.

His over-riding idea is that XXY is a different sex all together, and that testosterone they naturally produce is all they need. That he actually took, and probably still does take, testosterone therapy had to be worked around. In his blog he claims he ‘reduced’ his hormone therapy. The fact of the matter is he can’t assert XXY is a sex in it’s own right, and the level of testosterone produced is ‘normal’ and take ANY amount of exogenous testosterone, or he becomes a hypocrite.

Footnote on page 7 of his ‘paper’

“According to British law, physicians do not have to disclose details of medical techniques, nor the pharmacological operation of drug therapy: rather they are only required to provide information on the ‘goals and general nature of the treatment or drug’(Dickens 1982, p.238).He explains that physicians can resort to the ‘therapeutic privilege’ of non-disclosure in relation to procedures such as the administration of testosterone using intermuscular injections, in order to avoid having to account for their actions if they believe that the patient or parents may not comprehend the technical details of such therapies.”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 7

Michael Noble lives in Australia and I live in New Zealand, and what the British do is their business. I’ve not changed anything of his drivel, in fact here’s a screen shot, you can see they’re the same:

Noble drivel

This idiot has a University Degree by the way, but he can’t spell, even I know it’s ‘intramuscular’ but he’s so arrogant he didn’t bother getting his writings checked by a medical specialist before he released it for viewing. I can’t say ‘published’ even though for me to have a copy it must be ‘published’ but this is Michael Noble’s brain in action. Now you can also see this is an ‘updated’ version, from 2010, so if he knew so much about testicular volume and growth of XXY boys’ balls, how come he ignored this author, Ratcliffe 1999: an author he does refer to earlier in his ‘paper!’

XXY's balls

When crackpots like Michael Noble get an idea in their head, the last thing they want to do is include information that contradicts it.

I am more than happy to change what I teach as new information comes to hand. Such as I used to teach my balls were 1mL in volume at 17, and never were any bigger. However the likelihood of that being true is now zero, they must have enlarged at least a little in order for me to have that “good penile and scrotal development” and for me to have to wait for therapy, until my doctor was satisfied I had testicular failure:


Michael Noble never includes excerpts from his medical record, and never proves anything he says of himself, his therapy, his dealings with the medical profession. He just makes outrageous statements that look good to the intersex crowd.


My Balls

My balls are absolutely artificial. Further down I show a video of them, so if you don’t want to see it, don’t select it.

I’ve read some pretty dubious accounts by some XXY guys regarding their treatment, testosterone in particular, and what doctors have supposedly said to them, although they don’t actually name the doctor they’re referring to.

Mr Colin Calcinai, Plastic Surgeon – he gave me the greatest pair of balls I’ve ever had, and I’ve still got them too!

Dr John W Delahunt, Endocrinologist – didn’t always get things right, was relying on me to report accurately, that might have a been a mistake? Has always kept me up to date, and always provides information as I request it, and treats me in accordance with my wishes. Me not having the language skills to ask appropriate questions, was not his fault.

Dr Riseley G.P. informed my parents of my diagnosis without asking me, even though he was not obliged to, I was legally a minor. I never talked to him beyond basic medical care, ever, as a result of his decision. When my trust in someone has gone, that’s it forever.

So I don’t have a problem naming doctors and saying what they did, or didn’t do. When my scrotum split wide open a day after my second surgery Mr Calcinai did shout ‘keep still’ when he was trying to sew back up, as I was really agitated and not co-operating as much as I could. It doesn’t matter to me that they are artificial, when my balls start falling out it’s a shock!

So I’m just dumbfounded by some of the reports I read from other XXY guys, who seem to be inventing accounts as they’re so far removed from my personal experience.

I made the below video in 2010 and uploaded it as an unlisted video to YouTube. I made it on a Monday for the viewing of my Endocrinologist on the Wednesday following. I mentioned I’d made it in another video and a YouTube staff member red flagged it and removed it, claiming it had been seen by ‘members of the community’ but it never had been, no-one had ever seen it. This is a breach of YouTube’s rules in that an unlisted video can only be seen by a person the link is shared with, and I’d not shared it with anybody. I made it for my Endocrinologist to avoid a medical examination. I thought it was a brilliant idea. I mention my BMI (Body Mass Index) which I can report is still the same today. Nudity is allowed on YouTube, except when I do it.

I have an Endocrinologist who talks to me. He doesn’t just say, ‘this is it, take it or leave it‘ he gives me options, he always has done. He has never said to me ‘you can’t be a real man without testosterone therapy.‘ I wanted testosterone before he would give it to me. I had to wait over 12 months from initial contact with him to be started on testosterone. So all accounts of XXY guys being forced to, or cajoled into, taking testosterone are alien to me.

I can’t remember the name of the original Surgeon who inserted my first set of bigger balls. They were like hard pigeon eggs anyway, and I do have Mr Calcinai’s description, so I don’t really need to name that Surgeon. There’s no point in continuously complaining, when the matter’s been resolved. It’s much more pleasing and helpful to praise the Surgeon who did the best job, than complain about the Surgeon who did the worst. They were both constricted by medical policy in New Zealand that didn’t, and still doesn’t, allow either to remove an XXY’s defunct testes, when inserting prostheses.

One account I believed was nonsense was of an XXY man claiming his doctor was giving him very large doses of testosterone and his body wasn’t registering it being there. It turned out he was taking the testosterone by capsule. I already knew how that form of testosterone is used by the body, and I assumed he did too, and was just being misleading, deliberately. Then a few years later another XXY man approached me with the same story, how his level was not increasing when tested for with a blood test. “Aha” I thought, “how similar!” Yes the capsule’s testosterone can’t be measured in a blood test! It’s transported round the body in fat, not blood. 😛

So is it possible for two totally unrelated XXY guys to recount a similar story about an identical product, you bet! Not all doctors do know what they’re doing in regard to testosterone. XXY guys like me want to know what each product does, and how it works, how long it’s duration is, everything really about whatever the product is. I knew from the very moment I started on the capsules that the other perceived benefit would be real, no more blood tests, no more needles period!

A surgeon who has obviously had a little too much to drink.

The Other Side of the Story

I tend to believe information that’s given me without prompting. Remember that so-called ‘sex education’ in Form 1, Parkway Intermediate – the school that’s not there in name anymore? There was some kind of communication between the ‘imported tutors’ and my parents. My gigantic teeth made me pretty obvious, it wouldn’t be hard to work out who I was.

It was imparted to my parents that I had some kind of aversion to talking about sex. I can’t imagine where they got that impression from? It was a case of not being allowed to talk about sex, not a case of not wanting to! Apparently these ‘imported tutors’ did the same with all the boys with me, or I with them, they wrote to their parents to get permission to have us individually instructed. I don’t know how they identified the other boys?

Just imagine a sea of bloody girls asking benign and stupid questions and hogging all the space, with a few boys splattered round the outside trying to get noticed! That was my impression.

There was no conversation between my parents and myself about all this at the time, this is information I got when I was adult, and the butt of of my parents jokes at their dinner parties. They thought all this was a big joke. Pity they couldn’t see my point of view? My relationship with them was strained at best, and it never was anything different, so that was our ‘normal.’

Anyway, the permission was given and a date was set for a Psychologist to interview me at Parkway Intermediate, ascertain what I knew, and fill me in on the blanks. How about it’s all a blank, I knew nothing!

I thought I was in deep shit, I only ever got called to the Principal’s Office when I was in deep shit, but usually I knew about it, this time I was dumbfounded. What had I done?

Me at Parkway

[That picture is what I looked like at 12/13. You can see I’m really not good at smiling, but that was my hair length and skin tone, and bodily proportions. I’m not the classic XXY guy suffering from undiagnosed seminiferous tubule dysgenesis! I’m not supposed to be wearing it, but that is my school uniform jersey.]

The Psychologist was a man, I forgot his name, but he wanted me to call him by his first name. That made me feel important. He started talking about all sorts of things not related in any way to sex. I was supposed to stop him at any time I was confused about anything, he even offered me a cup of tea! That’s really unusual. If I wanted anything I was just to ask, I thought (crap, what bullshit, this guy must want something? 🙂 ) He didn’t actually say “I’m here to talk to you about sex.” If people don’t tell me exactly what they mean, exactly in the manner I’m supposed to receive it, I don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t get hints!

Remember my parents knew all about this interview, they KNEW what was happening, and they said NOTHING, they were really good at saying NOTHING.

I think when parents know someone is going to talk to boy in puberty about sex, they really should make sure the boy is not in school uniform at the time. The boy should be wearing clothing that allows for expansion, school uniform does not do that. School uniform is most uncomfortable.

Then he asked me about how I got ready for bed and what I wore? Who the hell wants to know that? This is a weird conversation. This guy’s more disorganised in his mind than I am. I already knew I was weird, I’d been weird all my life to that date, as life turned out nothing changed. Then he got a book out with pictures in it, of naked people, just a glance and I was stiff as a board, squirming round in my chair trying to get comfortable. This is not fair. This is torture. Then I remembered ‘If you want anything just ask?’ “Please Sir, I need to have a pee?” I asked. I didn’t but I really needed to get out of there, I had to make adjustments.

I was very interested in finding out more about that book, and I bolted for the nearest loo, that the students used, I’d never consider using a loo in the main office. What if someone saw me go in or come out, how would I explain that? Nah I’d never do that, that would be way too risky! I hated having to explain myself, I always seemed to get it wrong.

In the BBC “Human Body” documentary the teenage boys they interview mentioned they had ‘spontaneous erections at school’ and explained how they tucked their penis under their belt. That was exactly my plan. But school uniform shorts don’t allow for that kind of adjustment just by folding ones legs, and having a discreet manual shifting. Nope I needed to undo my belt all together, to achieve the desired result.

Having made the necessary rearrangement I bolted just as quickly back to the Principal’s Office. This guy had information and I wanted it. He wasn’t there, nobody was there. The place was empty. This has been happening all my life. Get me all excited about something then cut me off! Those mysterious tears welled up again. Where had he gone? I couldn’t be bothered going back to class, and I didn’t care if I got strapped for leaving early, but I did leave early. I’d had enough of people. I walked to my favourite half built house as tears just poured out of my eyes, I couldn’t be seen like this. I even left my bag and favourite jacket behind.

The big joke for my parents was, he decided to go for a pee too, if I’d waited 2 more minutes the conversation would have continued. That’s how it worked out to be my fault, again. The recommendation of the Psychologist was that I just wasn’t ready to talk about sex, but he was sure I was a “likable fellow” and I’d get there eventually. Little did he know!

When I should have been diagnosed, but Wasn’t

I seemed to be fated to meet incompetent Doctors

Account #1
The very first time I could have been medically diagnosed was just before we left to go to England in the early 1970’s.

I knew I had entered puberty, and you can see some pretty good examples as to how I knew that on the Sex Education page. (This is from my Autobiography) Sometimes some Medical Reports say us XXY’s have a delayed onset of puberty. I reckon I’ve met more XXY’s than any G.P. in New Zealand, and probably more than John Delahunt. XXY’s tend to go into puberty just like everyone else, some even start a little earlier than everybody else, and that was my experience, compared to my cohorts…neat word that, “cohorts”, it’s almost like ‘conspirators in crime’, love it! I started puberty at 10. That’s why, I think, I’m not excessively tall, and why I have excellent genital development, except my testes that were under 1.0ml bilaterally.

We had to have a medical as well as innoculations and all that sort of stuff before we left for England. Me my brother and sister and Mum went to one Doctor, and my Dad always had another Doctor, no idea why he did that, or who that Doctor was. And the Doctor we saw I’d never seen before, and I was a regular at our local G.P. for all kinds of injuries. No broken bones, just all kinds of other injuries. I wish I could remember his name, oh well.

Oh, and by the way, I have no recollection of being told beforehand that we were going to this new Doctor, or for what reason. However, since I was wearing long trousers, it must have been a well planned matter. Otherwise I would have been in school uniform. And when someone fiddles with your balls, and you’re not expecting it, you remember it!

So we get there and my Mum comes in with me. I think that was the mistake. I think the Doctor should have seen me on my own. He checks my ears and eyes and throat, and ahh chest and blood pressure, and all that sort of stuff. Then he gets me to lay down on a bed, or whatever they call that bench with cushions. Then he asked me to undo my belt, so I did, I’m really good at following direct instructions. Then he asked me to undo my top button on my trousers, and I did that too. No worries. Then he pushed his hand down inside my trousers, past my pubic hair (that is SIGNIFICANT), and he used his index and middle finger to touch my balls, and it was really PAINFUL!

The reason it’s significant is that no matter how I appeared when I met this Doctor, physically immature for my age, and emotionally immature also, he must have known I’d entered puberty by what he felt. He should have done a proper examination.

My whole body just went into a spasm, both feet raised off the bed and slammed back down. My balls were really sensitive. So the Doctor determined I had balls, not bloody good enough! If he asked, “do you have balls?” I could have answered that question no problem at all. But if he asked “do you have testes?”, I would have said “What?” I had no idea what their real name was. Remember, sex education didn’t mention ANYTHING to do with boys!

The Doctor didn’t seem surprised, he had his back to me. Then he moved his hand further and in doing so moved me penis between his index finger and thumb and retracted my foreskin, which was interesting. I was pretty stiff by then, which I’d need to be in order to retract my foreskin one handed. Then once he had determined my foreskin would retract easily, which is what it’s supposed to do, and a Doctor is supposed to make sure it does retract, he then tried to push it back, but it wouldn’t go. There was an expansion problem, which was really embarrassing. (BTW, for XXY’s a standard test is to determine if they can have an erection and retracting the foreskin is the preferred method. Does that make you wonder what Doctors do to guys who don’t have a foreskin?) I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter, and then he stopped. He told me to do up my clothing and that was the end of my very first physical examination after the onset of puberty.

So that Doctor could have determined I had balls without examining me at all. So why did he do it that way, and not the proper way? He can’t have used the ’embarrassment’ excuse, (which in later years many Doctors have told me is the reason they don’t do proper physical examinations on teenage boys), as he touched my balls and fondled my penis! Is that ‘fondling’? Maybe that’s not the right word.

I expect my Mum being there had a lot to do with the Doctors decision. There was a curtain between my Mum and me and the Doctor, but not a very wide curtain, I just looked over my right shoulder and my Mum was sitting there, with that disapproving look she always had. I felt it, maybe the Doctor did too? If my Mum had sat in the first chair, she would have been looking at the curtain when I was being examined, but she sat in the third chair, nearest the Doctors desk and could see the door we came in by and the examination bed/table (whatever).

And it was kind of difficult for me just being there. I did have to ask my Mum not to bath me anymore, when it was obvious things were changing. I didn’t appreciate being hit by her when I got changed to get in the bath, for having an erection. If she wasn’t there she wouldn’t have seen it, and it wasn’t like I even touched myself, it just arrived, no thought at all. In fact I suspect if she didn’t hit me I would not have noticed it, nor have anything to recount now. Noticing obvious things is not one of my strong points. My Mum wasn’t exactly clued up to my needs.

So, if the Doctor had got me to take my trousers off, I would have been naked from the waist down in front of my Mum. I’m sure he thought he was doing me a favour, it just didn’t work out that way. By that time my Mum had seen me with an erection, seen me supposedly ‘playing’ with my penis. Surely a Doctor would have realised that sort of thing too? And if he did think being seen naked by my Mum would have been so embarrassing for me, why didn’t he just ask her to leave? Remember that Doctors, it’s your workplace, you control it.

And after the Doctor had finished I knew I had another associated problem, that was getting quite sore and uncomfortable, that I really needed to hide, whilst walking passed my Mum. Not easy, not at all, damnit! And as far as I was concerned I knew she was looking, even if she wasn’t. Trying to hide a bump in my pants, with a shirt only on was not going to work, so I quickly pulled my shirt out, having just tucked it in. I felt really stupid. I knew I would be in serious trouble if I put my hands anywhere near the problem area. I had been told off for that before, in front of everyone at home, so I was very keen on preserving my dignity. XXY guys are really sensitive people.

I’ve always wondered why it wasn’t my Dad who took my brother and me to the Doctor on that particular occasion. I think that would have been a much smarter thing to do. Mind you, I only ever saw my Dad naked once as a kid, so maybe it was my Dad who had some aversion to sex, now there’s a thought!

I bet there’s a record somewhere as to who that Doctor was, and I’d love to track him down, and give him a copy of this CD. It’s amazing the damage that can be done by not doing your job properly! And I am angry.

Account #2
The next time I should have been discovered was at a physical examination the British Government arranges for ALL secondary school pupils. Can you guess what they are looking for? Do you need any more clues? However, I don’t recall any advance notice of this examination, but the entire school was examined, and of course every single boy there, EXCEPT ME! FUCKIT!!!!!

It was really weird. I had to go to school, I hated that. Then I had to wait with every other boy in my class, in a room adjacent to the Medical Office. I hated that too. They were so smelly, and aggressive, and just plain nasty. Yucky people!

Then my turn came and guess who was there as well as me. This is a someone I’ve met before, I know this person really well, my bloody mother! So, every part of me was examined, except my balls!

My mother was the only parent who went to the examinations, out of the whole fucking school! PISSES ME OFF!!

Later every other boy talked about how they had their balls squeezed, even my one and only true friend, Keith, said the same. I don’t know, the ‘gods’ were out to get me, bastard.

Account #3
Then one day, my Mum took me to the Doctor, our G.P. I had a rash, well it looked like a rash to me. It was called Shingles, really really painful! It’s something to do with the nervous system, but I have no idea how. Anyway, I seemed to be fated to meet incompetent Doctors. He had me take my shirt off, and oh yeah, my Mum was there! And he said to me, “Is it down there too?”, and I said “Oh yes, it’s down there too!” He should have fucking looked! Do you suppose he didn’t as Mum was there, or was that what he did with all teenage boys? Who knows, but when you have a 15 year old, with a rash over his entire upper body, don’t you think it would be kind of sensible for his Mother to wait outside? I do! And do you think it would also be just as sensible for the Doctor to discover, first hand, the full extent of the problem? I sure as hell do!

Account #4
I wanted to go on a holiday, on my own, without them, you know “them”! These people pissed me off all the time. Got in my way constantly. Beat me up whenever they felt like it.

I’m not sure if it was a Skiing holiday to Switzerland or the Cruise to the Baltic, they both sound so fantastic, from a New Zealand perspective, but when you’re so close to Europe, like England is, it’s possible to do a ‘day trip’ to most of Europe, and really cheaply. It’s like going to Picton for the day from Wellington.

Anyway I had to have a medical examination, again, before I could go, like everyone else. Would you like to guess who was there too? And would you like to guess what wasn’t examined? Well that was a real short account.

Account #5
My teeth were a mess, not from decay but by being so big and badly spaced. I had a huge gap between my two front teeth. My parents decided to make full use of the British Health System and have those teeth realigned. I had quite a few X-Rays, and that Dentist would have seen Taurodontism. I could have been diagnosed at that time if there was some co-ordination between the Medical Profession and the Dental Profession. That might sound like a bit of a ‘long shot’, but my information from the Dental Profession specifically notes this anomaly is found in males with Klinefelter’s syndrome. So some of the Dentists know about it, shall we try and make ALL the Dentists know about it? That seems like a good idea to me.

And now you might have an idea as to why I didn’t want my bloody Mother to go with me to my appointments with John, or my Dad. I was supposed to be growing up, I wanted to do things without my parents. They’d been butting into my business for years, it was time to let go, but they just wouldn’t! If that quack I saw when I was 12 did his job properly, or if I got my way when I was 15, life could have been different.

Also, when I was 14 or 15, I was laying in bed one morning masturbating, teenage boys tend to do that. My Mum had already called me for school, but I was ‘busy’. Then she just came into my room and pulled all the bed-clothes off. My Mum did not have a clue when it came to privacy, or any other part of Parenting.

You can imagine my surprise. Yes. Well. Ahem! That was embarrassing. That wasn’t the only time she’d found me enjoying myself. So she had plenty of reasons to know what to expect I would look like if a Doctor wanted to examine me, but she never got the hint. As far as I’m concerned my mother was the primary reason I was not diagnosed earlier than I was. I was discovered at the very first medical I had when my mother was not present. Fascinating.

Now for those of you reading this, and thinking that is O.K. behaviour for a parent, this is the correct method – :
Teenagers know when they have to be at school, and what they have to do to get there. If you’ve called your teenager for school, or whatever method you use to get them out of bed, that is all you need to do.

If the teenager is late, the teenager will pay the consequences for their actions, or lack of actions.

That is proper parenting, letting your teenagers fail, be late, miss the bus, whatever. That is a helluvalot better than total humiliation.

However, if you happen to be a ‘control freak’, the only method you will use will be the one where you do all the work, your teenagers will never learn responsibility, and you will criticise them constantly. You will make a rod for your own back, and theirs also.

It is my personal belief that my Mum wanted to go with me to every medical appointment I had to shut me up. Of course that can’t be tested, but there had to be some reason why for very personal matters she just butted in constantly. I know things, I know lots of things that my parents would not want anyone else knowing about.

One time at the G.P. we had in Wainuiomata, I went there for something, dunno what, I said something that Mum didn’t like and she threatened to bash me round the head. And the Doctor went loopy at her. “You don’t hit children about the head” he said. He was really pissed off. Interesting that time, very interesting.

Oh and when I was 10ish my Mum tried to give me away. None of her brothers and sisters wanted me by the way, that was so gutting. And I was so much looking forward to have a nice home to live in. She threatend me with giving me away to try to stop me from telling lies…what a disaster.

So just to make sure she did give me away, I did nothing but tell her lies. That’s called “Oppositional Defiance Disorder” and it is learned behaviour. You see, when a Parent constantly criticises a child, and that’s all the interaction the child gets, the child picks up on it real fast, and does only those things that gets the child the attention he or she craves. And they crave it as that’s all that’s on offer.

Parenting is not something that can be done by way of being fertile, or copying what your parents did. You have to learn it just like every other skill. Neither of my parents learned how to parent. Neither has my brother, or his wife, or my sister or her husband. I’m one of the few people I know, who actively set out to learn how to parent, since there is NOTHING my parents did that was worth copying. They didn’t have a clue, and they didn’t think they needed one either. That is called ARROGANCE.

Klinefelter’s syndrome & 47XXY

Talking about statistics, this is not as boring as you might think.

Wow I am amazed, nobody from New Zealand reads my blog, not one single person. Germany is always about 4th on my list of ‘reader nations’ and the USA is usually on top. But yesterday Canada outstripped the USA by a huge amount, more than double!

According to my statistics of this blog, Klinefelter’s syndrome and XXY are the most read, most searched for, most popular, topics I write about. That’s amazing too, I didn’t know they were that popular with anyone. I’m a bit slow I’ve only just figured out how to read my statistics, well YOUR statistics readers. I have a lot of repeat readers, the same people come back on a regular basis.

Recently I purchased Video hosting on WordPress, and it’s quite expensive for the space I get, so I’ll have to be pretty selective on what videos I house here. I’ve discovered that Facebook has almost no impact on my statistics and neither does Twitter, so I’ve disabled my links to those sites, but another one I just started on, that I’m not sure about how to use a I’ve linked to. I can’t remember it’s name right now, no matter.

When I was 10 I had no development at all. This is pre puberty. In theory. My mum had just washed my hair in the bath and I headed off to the lounge to dry off in front of the open fire. Nothing unusual so far. I was standing like you would be in a star jump, with the towel stretched out behind my back and between the fullest extent of my arms, held with my thumb and index finger, in each hand. This is pretty typical in our house as a means to dry off after a bath, for the children. I needed to stretch my shoulder blades and as I did my head naturally lowered and I was looking straight down.

“OH MY GOD” I said audibly, in slow motion, “WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?” (silly question really, I’d had it all my life) just as audibly. I am not joking, I am not boasting, it was at least half a ruler long, and rock solid. There’s a reason why guys call it a “woody!” Half a ruler is SIX INCHES! It wasn’t as fat as it became at 12, but it was at least 6 inches long, and I didn’t even know what it was called. “It” seems to be the appropriate word.

I immediately dropped my hands to my front, with the towel tightly drawn across my backside, no higher than my hips. I needed all the towel in front as I could get. I pushed “it” down with both hands, and if “it” had a muscle I’d just pulled it. Damn that hurt! “It” did not want to go down, “It” did not want to be pointed down, “It” was adamant, “It” was staying UP. In that situation, if you were me, I’m sure you’d let out a bit of a squeal, I did. My mum said sounding inquisitively concerned, “Graeme are you alright?” “Yes mum I’m fine” I said as I headed off quickly for MY bedroom (being possessive, at these times this is MY bedroom.)

The next time my mum washed my hair, even though I had absolutely no development at all, that was visible, normally, I said, “Mum, I can wash my hair myself.” This thing was out of control, “it” didn’t have any manners. There was no warning, no touching, no thinking, this thing can go off at any moment. It was a time bomb, that set it’s own clock! My mum said “Oh oh, ok, just this last time I’ll wash it, just to make sure it’s clean.” Well as a 10 year old that kind of made sense. Now it doesn’t make any sense, the same issues still existed, whether my hair was clean or not. Never mind as a 10 year old I was a bit naive, of course. I said “well don’t look” 😀 And my mum said “Oh no, I won’t look.” Liar, I bet she did, and she would have seen no development, nothing!

This isn’t supposed to happen with XXY guys I’m told. I read other XXY guys writings and they don’t seem to have any recollection of a normal puberty. Most of the guys I read claim they had delayed or late puberty, or they don’t mention puberty at all. I can’t understand that. Some people claim the development I have now is the result of the testosterone I’ve taken since being diagnosed, and it’s just plain nonsense. I’ve looked like I do now since I was 12 in my penis anyway. There is nothing ‘inter’ about my sex, and there never has been.

The Mission

On with the mission. – (This is from 1971 – Granddad had been dead for a few months) – The only thing that had ever come out of my penis before then was pee. In Science I was learning that if the conditions of a liquid changed then the liquid can become a gas, or a solid. Well what about something between solid and liquid? What about Sticky? So as heat was involved in my first discovery, and as heat was involved in my second discovery, heat must be the catalyst. That seemed logical to me. If I heat my pee up it will turn into this sticky stuff. That was the Theory.

Proving it is going to be difficult. Just being in the house on my own was a mission all of itself. For some reason nobody trusted me. Well maybe that’s stretching the truth just a little? There were some excellent reasons why nobody trusted me.

  • Like; arriving at school with a coloured piece of paper, that happened to be a large value bank note!
  • Like; losing my underpants at school and not knowing where I put them. I still don’t know where they went, must have fallen off! I had my shorts though, what was the big concern? Maybe I forgot to put them on before I left for school?
  • Like; being found with a leg of lamb under my arm, in bed. I guess I got up for a midnight snack? I just nodded off before I took it back to the fridge.
  • Like; growing several apples trees outside my bedroom window, from the apples I’d half eaten. I was good at gardening even back then, before I knew anything about Horticulture.
  • Like; climbing in through my parents bedroom window, directly under live power lines. I was at least 2 feet away, what harm could I come to?
  • 149 wainuiomata rd

    There was to be a school trip to Picton, and for once my mother wasn’t going, she had something else on, so I took advantage of it. Before then, watch this:

    Exactly the same thing happened to me, except I didn’t have any “Sex Ed.” I had to work it out for myself, and not very well. I saw a Maori woman on TV, no idea about what the programme was about, and I dreamed about her, and it was weird. I dreamed about other people too, and they weren’t in that TV programme. I woke up – and the dream really should have gone on, where the dreamed ended wasn’t the exciting bit. I thought I’d wet myself again. This was getting a bit much, this isn’t on, this is not fair, at all, I’m being cheated out of my dreams, and something’s making me wet myself, but not with pee!

    You can see how my attention is being grabbed. I had to find out what this was, and it could have all been settled if my dad had VOLUNTEERED the answer. He KNEW what was happening, he must have, and he said NOTHING.


    First on the left is Murray, in 1971, this is the school trip to Picton, I’m not in this photograph, we weren’t even in the same class anymore. That’s how long I had to wait to execute my plan, about a year, and for all that time I’d not gained any new information, even after what was supposed to be “Sex Education.

    So I got back from the trip to Picton and nobody was home, as I expected. Again I climbed through that open window under the power lines. It worked the first time, no reason it won’t work a second. I got out one of my mothers cooking pots, peed in it, and set it on the stove to heat it up. I hadn’t considered the smell, so I opened a few windows. I had that pee boiling for at least 5 minutes and it didn’t change one little bit! What had I forgotten? This was a complete disaster. A total failure.

    I turned the stove off and tipped the pee down the sink. I got a Tea Towel and wiped the inside of the pot, I didn’t think it needed washing as it didn’t look dirty. Hung the Tea Towel up, put the pot away, closed the windows, and left, through the window. I had to get back to Parkway Intermediate to be picked up to be taken back to where I was, I was supposed to wait at Parkway after we got back from Picton – but I detoured.