#super normal!

[pleckthaniel]

the state of trans healthcare in my new city:

-there's one local planned parenthood. online reviews say that if you make an appointment for HRT, they'll just repeatedly cancel it against your will until you give up.

-other local reproductive clinics are by and large focused on abortion (fair) and don't offer many other services (annoying)

-there is one LGBTQ owned and operated queer health clinic! yay!

-except they know that they're the only ones in this city treating trans people.

-what they've chosen to do with this information is punish anyone who is late to an appointment or cancels with less than 24hr notice.

-i should note that they (explicitly! they say this bit out loud!) count it as You being late for the appointment if, for example, you show up early but filling out paperwork or issues with insurance take up enough time to make you "late" to go into the examination room.

-(if i'm in the building and trying to go to my appointment, and YOU are stopping me from doing so over bureaucratic bullshit, in what universe could you consider that me being late. hello?)

-and btw, when i say punish, i mean assess some pretty absurd fees and literally

BLACKLIST YOUR PRESCRIPTIONS

until you make and show up to another appointment.

(pretty unethical thing for any doctor to do in any circumstance, but I think the fact that it's likely a majority of trans ppl in this city rely on this clinic for HRT makes this especially heinous)

[nightingem]

my grandfather called shirley temple a harlot because she was having an affair with my great-uncle (her neighbor; they were both old as balls at this point). let me tell you it’s one thing to hear about your grandfather ranting about how his brother will go to hell if he doesn’t repent and stop having premarital sex. it’s another thing when the woman your great uncle is banging is shirley temple.

[eternalhermit]

My tiny little heart.

I'm shy about it, about him, the way that i'm shy about all matters of my heart. because it is small and it is fragile, and I fear for it's well being. And the thought of bad things happening to it make me imagine it tightening, spasming, and exploding, leaving streamer-like bloody bits of muscle-Y entrails hanging from the walls and surroundings. The pale crimson painting the walls and ceiling, leaving no remnants of a core anywhere to be seen, yet a residual feeling of the pounding and constant thud of the heart beat still in the air. Not to the ear or to the eye, but to the tongue, the lips and the fingertips. A sort of thick drink feeling sliding through your throat.