It has come to my attention, through the most relentless gossip of our digital salons, that a certain gentleman of some renown, Monsieur Tarzan, has lately become the subject of most unbecoming comparisons. The public, in its infinite cruelty and love for the grotesque, has dared to suggest that this gentleman—at fifty-six years of age—now bears a striking resemblance to an elderly matron. One can almost imagine the horror of a lady in a feathered hat discovering such a metamorphosis upon a social visit!

To unravel this mystery, we must look to the insights of a physician, the learned Dr. Novoselov. He suggests that such a descent into what he terms 'feminine aging' is not a whim of fate, but the result of a most tedious neglect. When a gentleman abandons the rigor of physical exertion and forgets the discipline of a balanced table, his constitution begins to surrender.

However, there is a more sinister element to this tale—the pursuit of an artificial grandeur. It appears that those who indulge in the vanity of anabolic steroids, seeking a strength not granted by nature, often find themselves paying a most ironic price. The doctor notes that such 'medicines' leave the body in a state of confusion, often necessitating further chemical interventions once the initial artifice ceases.

In short, the tragedy of this poor soul serves as a cautionary tale for all gentlemen who wish to avoid the fragility of a grandmother's visage. The remedy, it seems, is quite simple: return to the gymnasium and eschew the shortcuts of the chemist. For there is nothing so bourgeois as the attempt to buy youth in a vial, only to find oneself mirroring the very matrons one once sought to impress.