Moon Memo: Submissive and Readable
Good afternoon from a very hot and very muggy office, at the end of a day that was both mega busy and also nothing special.
Yesterday I went to the doctor. My blood pressure has gone down, which is good. But not enough, which is bad. I was poked and prodded to get blood. It is very hard for me to give blood. I am marshmallow fluff all the way down. The phlebotomist called me a "difficult big girl" because she didn't know I was still in the lab, peeing into a cup that she put in my hand. I was called a tranny on the way out. The old man was obviously in bad health. He was bitter in the way of old men. It shouldn't have bothered me. It bothered me enough to send me crying in my car afterwards.
I hate my body. We all know this. I love my body. I know this sometimes.
Two days before, a lover took me into their mouth and said I was delicious. The day before, a friend said that she loves to hug me, because there is so much to hug. My spouse says I am the prettiest girl. And I believe them. I believe all of them.
The tests keep coming back. No HIV. No Hepatitis. Pre-diabetes. "Maybe it's the HRT. Do you want to quit spiro?"
I desperately want to quit spiro. But that means an Orchi. Which I can't have unless my blood pressure is managed.
It's poetry season, which means I've submitted a bunch of poems to magazines. A friend of mine asked me if I was feeling extra submissive and readable today. I laughed so hard my boss came in and said "what's so funny," and I had to pretend it was something else. But yes, I do.
Poems out into the world. I haven't written a new one in days. The urge to write every day hasn't hit me that much in the last month. I've still written like 20 of them. As the poet laureate does.
I love you all so much. Be kind to yourself.
Misha