Three trans men of a certain type (were Mary McCarthy writing The Group today, they’d have featured prominently in at least the Vassar flashbacks, say. By which I mean: yes, of course they are) sit down at a table. Before them is a loaf of bread and three syringes. They wait politely. There is a long silence, followed by an even longer one.
I take a gel that comes in tiny tubes, one tube per day. I’m taking a hair less than a full tube, and everyday I wonder if I should save the remaining drop. If I saved like 8 tubes, I could have an extra day’s worth. Surely I will need this, when society collapses?
oh cripes this was embarrassingly on point. especially as I spent today apologizing to my dentist for needing a followup appointment because I hadn't spoken up for myself enough at the *last* appointment and thus something was done wrong. Wanting things? Couldn't be me.
Was this cartoon the inspiration for that post awhile back where you are a hearty French peasant enjoying your single bean?
I take a gel that comes in tiny tubes, one tube per day. I’m taking a hair less than a full tube, and everyday I wonder if I should save the remaining drop. If I saved like 8 tubes, I could have an extra day’s worth. Surely I will need this, when society collapses?
oh cripes this was embarrassingly on point. especially as I spent today apologizing to my dentist for needing a followup appointment because I hadn't spoken up for myself enough at the *last* appointment and thus something was done wrong. Wanting things? Couldn't be me.
is this why i never take my shot on time? 🤔