It’s the only way to defeat the labrenthine security measures that keep people from going into the wrong bathroom.
I remember once at a Cracker Barrel shortly after we had our first kid, my wife was in the ladies’ room trying to change a bad, bad diaper. We were expecting a 3 Mile Island, but this was Chernobyl. She hollered for help.
I panicked for a moment but remembered my training. I only just made it past the cross-cutting grid of lasers using some parkour, the riddle guards where one always lies, and the other always tells the truth, and the spike pits with swinging vines over them. I definitely don’t remember just fast-walking in there, eyes to the floor, loudly apologizing to nobody in particular.
Once containment and remediation were complete, we enjoyed our meal without incident. The child was especially fond of apple butter.
If I had known I could have avoided all that by simply attending decades of therapy, being abandoned by my family, going through painful binding, and multiple reconstructive surgeries which I had to save up for and purchase myself because they weren’t covered by insurance and taking handfuls of pills everyday to try and regulate my hormone levels for some semblance of peace if a body I knew wasn’t actually mine…man that would have saved me so much work.
Tough read.
Good stuff.
It’s hard to understand why reactionaries seem to think that anyone would want to be trans- if they had any choice in the matter at all.
It’s the only way to defeat the labrenthine security measures that keep people from going into the wrong bathroom.
I remember once at a Cracker Barrel shortly after we had our first kid, my wife was in the ladies’ room trying to change a bad, bad diaper. We were expecting a 3 Mile Island, but this was Chernobyl. She hollered for help.
I panicked for a moment but remembered my training. I only just made it past the cross-cutting grid of lasers using some parkour, the riddle guards where one always lies, and the other always tells the truth, and the spike pits with swinging vines over them. I definitely don’t remember just fast-walking in there, eyes to the floor, loudly apologizing to nobody in particular.
Once containment and remediation were complete, we enjoyed our meal without incident. The child was especially fond of apple butter.
If I had known I could have avoided all that by simply attending decades of therapy, being abandoned by my family, going through painful binding, and multiple reconstructive surgeries which I had to save up for and purchase myself because they weren’t covered by insurance and taking handfuls of pills everyday to try and regulate my hormone levels for some semblance of peace if a body I knew wasn’t actually mine…man that would have saved me so much work.