Oh, I'm Gonna Hate This!
This is my cheerer-upper for today.
Apropos of my gloomy posts, a couple of people asked if I've had my thyroid checked. Well, funny about that. I actually had a prescription for the blood test. Might even still have it somewhere. Then this past spring the body dysphoria and all that shit started really ramping up and I began to actively move in the direction of physically transitioning. I figured that in order to be prescribed testosterone, I'd probably need a whole panel of blood tests. But I haven't yet found a doctor to prescribe the testosterone because. Because. Because because because because because. Because of a bunch of shit that I don't have the wherewithal to go into right now. Let's leave it at that.*
In my current escapist fantasy world, I am in a triad relationship with Billy Joel and Trollface. Billy's not really my type and I know I'm not his, but I figure hey, he's a genius, he's funny, he can support me in a lower-maintenance manner than he's used to, and if he gets besotted with some hot 23-year-old, Trollface and I will still have each other until he gets tired of her. We live in a modernist stone and glass house (the house wasn't my idea) in my fantasy version of Oyster Bay which has a deserted, windswept shoreline with sea oats and bleached whale bones. We do a lot of drugs. Our bed is round and vast. None of us can cook. We have no pets. Often, on a whim, we go jetting off to Amsterdam or Easter Island. Sometimes we go to San Francisco just for dinner. Lucky for me, there's a bed (smaller than the round one) on the plane. With a morphine drip attached. OK, this fantasy is rapidly spinning out of control.
*Although I do want to specify that it has nothing to do with Chris, who has been as supportive a partner as any confused person could wish for.
Apropos of my gloomy posts, a couple of people asked if I've had my thyroid checked. Well, funny about that. I actually had a prescription for the blood test. Might even still have it somewhere. Then this past spring the body dysphoria and all that shit started really ramping up and I began to actively move in the direction of physically transitioning. I figured that in order to be prescribed testosterone, I'd probably need a whole panel of blood tests. But I haven't yet found a doctor to prescribe the testosterone because. Because. Because because because because because. Because of a bunch of shit that I don't have the wherewithal to go into right now. Let's leave it at that.*
In my current escapist fantasy world, I am in a triad relationship with Billy Joel and Trollface. Billy's not really my type and I know I'm not his, but I figure hey, he's a genius, he's funny, he can support me in a lower-maintenance manner than he's used to, and if he gets besotted with some hot 23-year-old, Trollface and I will still have each other until he gets tired of her. We live in a modernist stone and glass house (the house wasn't my idea) in my fantasy version of Oyster Bay which has a deserted, windswept shoreline with sea oats and bleached whale bones. We do a lot of drugs. Our bed is round and vast. None of us can cook. We have no pets. Often, on a whim, we go jetting off to Amsterdam or Easter Island. Sometimes we go to San Francisco just for dinner. Lucky for me, there's a bed (smaller than the round one) on the plane. With a morphine drip attached. OK, this fantasy is rapidly spinning out of control.
*Although I do want to specify that it has nothing to do with Chris, who has been as supportive a partner as any confused person could wish for.
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