My boyfriend keeps looking at me like 😐... 🥚 when I tell a story that happened pre-transition and it gets funnier every time, so I present to you, in no particular order,
egg shit that SOMEHOW did not tip me off:
Played in numerous d&d campaigns in college; didn't play a lady character even once.
Invented a male persona so I could sub in when my boyfriend's frat was a man short for Beer Olympics.
Maintained that male persona and later pledged the frat.
Was regularly the only girl invited to Boys' Night because "you're a guy like at least 40% of the time anyway".
Planned elaborate costumes every halloween; never once went as a lady or anything lady-adjacent.
Actually won 'Sexiest costume (male)' at a theatre event.
Regularly auditioned for male roles in theatre productions. Landed a small part in an all-female production of As You Like It as Silvius and was never more psyched to be in a play.
Watched Ouran High School Host Club straight through by myself; felt weird and immediately chopped off all my hair about it.
Messed around with my college boyfriend while in boymode, using masc pronouns and an assumed name.
80% of my wardrobe in college was hand-me-downs from that same boyfriend.
Went as a wizard for halloween multiple times as a kid, with the beard and everything; never once considered being a witch.
Invented a male persona in middle/high school just for going to hockey games with my uncle.
Made out with more than one gay dude who said "I don't know what it is about you, I'm usually never attracted to women."
Ended up effectively living in my buddy Jake's dorm room every single year, no matter what my official living arrangements were.
Started wearing Old Spice in high school because a boy I liked wore it and I liked how he smelled. Pulled the same move in college with a particular brand of shampoo.
Wore the men's jeans+high-impact sports bra combo in an astounding number of photos.
And I didn't know! My oblivious ass sat there in my boyfriend's old pants with my titties tied down, calling myself Jack, playing a male illusionist for the 76th time in a d&d game with my frat brothers and making plans to go to Boys' Night afterwards for Streetfighter and beer, and I didn't figure it out.
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you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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Could I request Medic having The Mom Grip on Scout’s shoulder after the speedy moron almost let a mercenary secret slip while they weee getting groceries?
Three Europeans and two Americans walk into a grocery store in New Mexico.
I hope this is the right meme.
More silliness below.
This comic is the antithesis of the "wtf is a kilometre" joke.
The faces they make when they can't quite identify the type of brown bread in the bread aisle.
You don't know how [insert nationality here] you are until you go overseas and things are different.
Spy obviously has no problems with pretending to know how much a gallon of milk is, he just peeks into his conversion chart notes, pretending it's his shopping list.
I want to think Heavy is completely fine with having to readjust to a new unit system, he just eyeballs most practical things anyways by holding them up and mumbling about how they approximately weigh like a chicken or his kettle bell etc. He's always been living in practical ignorant bliss.
Medic has a peer reviewed meltdown the first time he realises there's no uniformity in "a cup of ____" because every object has different densities. He's diligent about memorising the conversion rates for ounces, pounds, the most common things etc., and recovers ok. He goes through the same stages of grief rage when he finds out about distances and lengths.
Just remember four inches are 10.16 cm and pray no one asks you to specify anything bigger than inches.
Everyone does a mental victory lap when they manage to guess how much Celsius the weather is because they keep forgetting it's Celsius*5/9+32=Fahrenheit, Engineer reminds them patiently.
The true victories are the correct temperature guesses we've made along the way.
One time, a friend asked me if I actually knew how much a tablespoon of flour was in gramms to convince me that metric users also make use of volume based units without thinking about them. But little did she know a heaped spoonful of 405 flour is about 15g and a level tablespoon is 10g.
They claim Oolong just tastes better when it's boiled to 80°C exactly with a Bunsen burner.
You only asked for one scene but somehow I came up with a bunch of other things. This post was drawn across 2 months so the artstyle is all over the place. Thanks for your ask!
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I feel a need to explain myself after a bunch of you called me a dumbass (affectionate) in the notes of the egg post (😐... 🥚), so may I present the thrilling sequel:
egg reasoning that made perfect sense at the time:
Of course I want to play male characters; I'm a girl all the time in real life.
Why not have a male persona? It's a great running joke and the harder I commit, the funnier it is.
Sure, I'm calling myself Jack and fucking my boyfriend's ass, but that's just because I'm kinky, okay? IT'S JUST A WEIRD SEX THING, DON'T READ INTO IT
I'm only more involved with masc social groups because a lot of those guys want to fuck and so do I.
I went as a wizard for halloween so many times as a kid because my dad did it once and he's the coolest 🧙♂️.
Look, there's no reason deodorant needs to be gendered at all, okay? When my ma said I smelled like a man, I only felt ecstatic about it because Fuck Gender Roles. I'm 15 and I'm being subversive, dammit!
Titties are mostly annoying unless I'm either (a) trying to attract some horny attention or (b) I have succeeded in that and someone's sucking on 'em. The super high impact sports bra is definitely more comfortable and convenient and cheaper than regular ones. And being able to take my titties off at will would be even better.
It's fun to make straight guys question their sexuality! See, if I look like this and they're still into me, that must mean I'm... very very sexy. Sexy enough to have gay thoughts about. Even though I'm a lady. I enjoy this a normal amount, for normal reasons!
It might? be fun to make straight women question their sexuality, but for some reason that's not as interesting to me. *shrug*
Everybody wishes they could switch their sex at will, even if they wouldn't do it very often. More options is always good, amirite? Like, don't you wish you could at least try it?
My feelings about fancy waistcoats are probably within spitting distance of normal; historical costuming is very cool.
Boymode (though I don't actually know that term yet) doesn't feel weird to me, but that is because I am a good actor. After all, look how good I am at performing Being A Lady. I have range.
And looking back, I have the same attitude as everyone in the notes: "Oh my god, you fucking himbo, HOW??"
I'll tell you how: I barely knew the word 'transgender' and had never (knowingly) met a trans person. If I'd been familiar with even ONE trans person's experience, I think I would have figured it out a decade sooner.
(That doesn't make the egg shit any less funny, though. Tbh, I could have been asking more questions and I just Did Not.)
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