Twenty, one hundred.

Oh my god.

I have gotten 120 dollars in the first 6 hours of my fundraiser. I am literally overjoyed. I am overcome with emotion. This is the most beautiful moment for me.

I went to my first physical in 2 years today, and after talking briefly about other things (my job, where I'm living etc.) my doctor and I got started. She asked me if I needed any blood work done. I paused.

"Well, you see... Here's the thing."

She looked at me, and there it was.

"I'm transitioning,' I paused, because I'm obviously liberal arts educated and expected everyone to know what this mean. After a beat... "From female to male."

"Good for you!" She said instantly. Then we talked about my plans to go to Fenway Health in Boston to get hormones, to get surgery and all these things.

"I'm so glad you're doing something to make you feel good. So many people are so unhappy with all these things about their lives, and they don't do anything about them. You're not happy with something, and you're changing it." She said, as she put in the bloodwork (that I didn't technically need). "I'm ordering more bloodwork than you need, than I would normally order for a young woman-- Person,' she said finally.

What a good day.

TOP SURGERY

I've started a fundraiser for my upcoming top surgery. Shit is EXPENSIVE, brother. Like more expensive than my car. Like more expensive than my car INSURANCE.

With any luck, by next year, I'll be the realest boy imaginable.
Here is the link to donate!

If you donate $50 or more, I will draw you a comic to show you my eternal gratitude!

In other news, tuckstuff.com is my new favorite website. I want all presents from there from now on.

I mean look at this. This is perfect.

T is for the '48 Tucker Torpedo

So recently I've decided to take a sharp turn into fitness city, population this guy. Most of my work day was spent researching transfriendly muscle building routines, yoga studios near my apartment, and drawing a 6-day work out plan on a post it with a sharpie and a highlighter.

It was a pretty slow day.

Friday afternoon rolls around, I drag my skinny ass out of bed after a 4 hour nap, walk to the gym to start gettin' swole. After a riveting, challenging, butt-kicking 30 minutes on the expressline, I walked home and bought muscle milk.

In order to achieve true gym rat bro-dom, my obvious dream, I made a trip to the local "vitamin world", apparently owned and operated by the most flamboyant man. Rather than suggesting I buy 400 kinds of protein and 648954 vitamins and really just whalin' on my pecs, brah, he recommended the kind that "tastes like a vanilla ice cream float".

Purchases at Vitamin World are accompanied by a membership card, which I was required to fill out. After this kind young gentleman presumptuously checked the "female" box, I filled out my name.

"What a unique name! I love that name. It's so great. Where did it come from?"

I paused. "...My brain."

He chuckled, and then said, "not after the old car?"

"What?" I replied. "What old car?"

The "Tucker" aka "The Tucker Torpedo"

You're welcome.

T is for

Tucker.

Twenty-three.

Transbro.

Working towards my T Letter.

Saving up for Top Surgery.

This is my holy roaming empire.