Tom | 18 | another brain rotted OFMD connoisseur (With some random stuff sprinkled in for extra seasoning) | no gender only pronouns | was @absolutely-pedestrian
i wish that people were more accepting of the fact that not everyone's "core being" or whatever you want to call it will line up perfectly with a label. some people use labels that match their feelings 100% some will use labels that mostly of kind of fit. some will use a label but only to get people to stop asking about it. some use no labels. etc. labels are just tools that we use to describe our unique + indescribable experiences and feelings, and they tend to work pretty well, but it isn't 100% effective. this is what it means to not sort people into boxes
“I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control. I was on the pill until he found them in my purse. I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem. Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo. When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to. And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe. I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy. I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.”
—
Curious Georgiana (via grrrlstudies)
I know I’ve reblogged this before, but it bears re-reblogging (?). This is how you respond to abuse, this is how you give people control over their bodies/uteruses, this is how you act as a generally non-judgmental and compassionate person. I love this story so fucking much.
Guys do u know that one meme where there's a girl and like a bodyguard (???) ordering drinks and the waiter give them the wrong drinks so they switch them on the last panel,???????? BECAUSE I C1NT FING IT^
I feel like "I put your deranged ramblings through a genetics searcher and your an insect" is such a better retort than anything people could come up with.
i do this to my friends sometimes because what the fuck are they gonna do? what are you supposed to say in response to that? your shitty little roast is a tree now bitch. what are you gonna do about it
the funniest dynamc between my boyfriend and i is the chef/baker divide runs so deep. experimentally my boyfriend is a genius with figuring out what flavor profiles will not just taste good together but also will be enjoyed by the specific audience he is cooking for. a recipe is not a guidebook so much as a suggestion and he will frankenstein ideas together to get exactly what he wants to happen. he also didnt know that sugar will not work properly if you dont mix it with the wet ingredients in banana bread and when i asked 'why didnt you do it in the order of the recipe' he said 'i didnt really think it mattered'. autistically i exploded his head in my mind