The most. profound thing about HRT for me has been claiming ownership of my own body to the fullest extent. It feels like I already broke the warranty seal and this bitch is now mine to fix.
If my body is a temple, then it’s a temple to gods i no longer worship. It’s abandoned, overgrown, crumbling, but it’s still there, and it’s mine. I will fix it slowly, I will restore it, but no longer in the image that one might expect proper for a temple.
Brick is just brick, stone is just stone, flesh is just flesh, other people’s meaning doesn’t imbue them with anything holy.
Nothing is permanent. Nothing is reversible. Get that tattoo. Get the piercing. Cut your hair. Dye it. Shave it. Split your tongue. Get that surgery. Move out. Break up. Hook up. Start HRT. Start working out. Gain weight. Post tits. Do drugs. Live by you and yourself. Put a halfpipe in the church. Ollie over the redeemer.