the odd thing about the "words don't mean anything" afab transfem crowd is that perisex trans people can just as easily call themselves intersex for some of the otherization they face during transitioning and it has been mentioned time & time again how interphobic it is to assume you're intersex because you're in the middle of transitioning or whatever you think "makes" you intersex. somehow all of that falls apart when it comes to transfemininity.
but what's even funnier is that, it's actually possible for perisex people to find out that they were intersex all along. because we aren't actually all that rare. ime at least i enter a group of 5 where 2 of us are intersex and 2 more come out of it realizing they were intersex too, or at least considering the possibility of it & unlearning sex dimorphic science, and it explains all those weird encounters with cis people, the hormonal issues they never even thought about because they're 'normal' externally, the family secrecy etc.
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ok this isnt meant to be a dig or anything but it's always really funny to me when people like just cracking 30 are like "omg you're in your early twenties, you're a babyyyyyy"
babe you're like barely 30, you're a baby too. You're a blink and a half older than me. I spend too much time around people over 50, the difference between 23 and 33 is a few years at a job and a little more distance from living in your parents' house but it's like, nothing. the gap closes every time you breathe and every time i move. the difference between you and me is like one-fifteenth the difference between you and my dad's friend Joe or whatever. don't worry you'll get to live more life too, but don't kid yourself.
and this is doubled when it's coming from a 25-year-old currently experiencing a crisis of age because they're soooo old, they're 25, the horror! You are twenty-five. We have an age difference of three years. Your concern over this is embarrassing for you and highly entertaining for me. But like don't kid yourself here. You are 25. You are a like a fucking baby to me.
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The amount of slack I have to pick up for my colleague is starting to get on my nerves
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guess who just finished the first draft of this (endless, frustrating, more than possibly terrible) fic? 🤗
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By that time Marcos Hirsch, Jorge's physical trainer, had also become an important figure in the young racer's life and they built up a particularly strong professional and personal relationship. Together, Dani and Marcos formed Jorge's strongest pillars of support during the worst of the conflict, but there had been happier times in the gym for both Lorenzos with Marcos. In fact, one of Jorge's more amusing anecdotes comes from those days: 'My dad used to say that Rossi was a clown. He said he was a great rider but that he always had the best bike and that was why he won. So when Rossi moved to Yamaha he said, "Pah! He's not even going to finish in the top six. There are too many factory Hondas and the Yamaha is nowhere near as good." Marcos and I said that Rossi would win races. Not only that, but that he would finish in the top three in the championship. So we made a bet. My dad had just come back from Thailand and he'd bought this ridiculous Thai hat, with little balls dangling from it on strings. We said that if Valentino finished in the top three at the end of the season, he'd have to wear the hat for a whole week. Of course, Valentino won the title and my dad turned up at the gym wearing the hat. He looked so stupid that we felt sorry for him and after a couple of days we told him he could take it off.'
Riveras Tobia's Jorge Lorenzo: My Story So Far
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Guess who spilled boiling ramen broth on his hand and got second-degree burns :’^)
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you know that post where it’s like “i love when there is a big buff guy who has a little buddy and whenever his buddy isn’t there the big guy cries so hard he throws up”? that’s slider and mav to me
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My bodys like "for the love of god if you dont stop eating high fiber foods I'm gonna chop your asscheeks off and use em as wings to fly away"
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well its been a week since my psychiatrist told me to take zoloft in the morning instead of at night like ive been doing for literal years because "it wakes most people up its an antidepressant" like no it definitely makes ME tired and want to sleep. my sleeping issues were DEFINITELY worse this past week. it being much easier to fight the tiredness when i take my night meds. taking my morning meds and crashing instead of just going back to sleep.
i dont think ive ever had a SINGLE psychiatrist that ive felt like they Listened to me. especially this one im seeing. like every single problem i tell him i have hes like 'i see what youre saying but youre wrong about your problems you need therapy and i need to increase ur anxiety meds" like I GET that i need therapy but im LITERALLY TELLING HIM WHY I STAY UP LATE AT NIGHT (the stress) and hes like 'no its because the meds arent working :)'
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whenever i remember that high school as a time period existed (or school at all really) i get this awful visceral tug in my gut, like... this sick feeling... i don’t think about it at all anymore unless i’m reminded of something... thankfully! school was such a mountainous draining terrible thing, this huge weight that engulfed everything in my life and it’s so weird to me that it’s just gone now, so far behind me that i don’t even think about it. so so so so so so weird. but it obviously still inhabits a very deep part of me, and whenever i’m reminded of those years... damn. that shit was so traumatic, i’m 26 and still unable to function bc of what went on there :’)
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