My Father Washes With Rubbing Alchohol

(another aside, until I very shortly return to the regular trans* related programming)

My father washes with rubbing alcohol.  He unscrews the entire lid from the bottle, holds three fingers over the opening, then rubs it all over his hands and arms.  Next, he scratches it into his legs, his feet.

Each time that he re-loads his hands with alcohol, I see bits of skin, hair, blood, effluvia swirl back into the bottle.

He believes that this ritual will prevent poison ivy, skin fungus, athletes foot, jungle rot, lyme disease, sore joints, arthritis, rheumatics, infections, Ebola, flesh-eating bacteria, and brain eating amoebas.

He is actually causing dry, itchy, raw, irritated skin which produces incessant sensations of ivy rash, creepy crawlers, dust mites, parasites, and melanoma.

After he leaves, I discard the bottle and purchase a new one.

Advertisements

Into the Nitty Gritty of a Male of Transgender Experience

 “You cannot control what happens to you, but you can control your attitude toward what happens to you, and in that, you will be mastering change rather than allowing it to master you.”

Gender Diversity at WSU Vancouver

Promoting awareness of gender diversity at WSU Vancouver

The Painted Pear

email: rebeccacaryanderson@gmail.com

non-binary bound

a journey of top surgery for a non-binary body

The Recompiler

a magazine about building better technology, together

recess | city

move toward what moves you.

the ghosts journey

A transparent look in to the (no longer) closeted life of a transgender woman

emilygritz

singing the zyx's until it is natural and accidentally eating the stickers on apples.

letters for les

A genderqueer scamp's letters to the transgender warrior

moon child.

fiction and journalism / sophie mcnaughton.