I was just thinking today that nothing has been more affirming to the masculine parts of my identity as how much of a little bitch I am when I catch even the slightest of colds.
I’ve broken just about every bone in each arm and leg. I’ve seen my own blood more times than I can remember and my own bones peaking out my skin twice. Cuts, bruises and minor burns are generally ignored. One day my clumsiness will kill me, because I refuse to learn. At least I will go out proud.
But a cold will fuck me up every single time. Sometimes for days. And yes, I will whine all the time nonstop.