We Can Rebuild Him
From the fun-time world of the sexually dysmorphic:
This sounds like something worth talking to a therapist about, since that’ll be much less traumatic and most likely cheaper.
Wise words, as Transgender Reddit goes, from the replies to this:
Please let me know what height reduction surgeries are out there, and the cost. It’s been really difficult to find out. I’m 18 years old, on hormones since I turned 18. I’m 169 cm or just a little bit under 5’7″ and I’d like to go down as much as possible. Please let me know on both legs and spine. Also I’m a size nine-and-a-half women’s shoes, if that is important.
According to our height-conscious chappie, it’s all about “just being myself.” And his self is apparently a shorter person:
I only need to go down about two inches to be happy. I would be happy at 5’5″.
And hey, who wouldn’t want a “controlled breaking” of their legs? A procedure that entails an exciting range of possible complications, including limited mobility, nerve damage, chronic pain, and deformity, and for which the success rate is, intriguingly, “not known,” according to the people offering the service.
Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
There’s a rabbit hole I don’t want to fall down
It’s not for the faint of heart.
But the fixation with surgery, often to a fetishistic degree, as if it could somehow deliver every heart’s desire, is a little odd.
Laughed, not sorry.
Big feet, or imagined big feet, are a recurring issue.
At which point, some musical accompaniment comes to mind.
Thing is, chappie above, the one who wants his legs broken in order to become more ladylike, is already pretty much average height for a woman, hardly conspicuous. And I doubt that the extra inch or so is what will draw attention.
Don’t they do foot binding on the NHS?
By the way, last night, in the mood for a horror movie, I watched The Last Voyage of the Demeter. It’s not very good. Oddly lifeless and at no point compelling.
You’d think that, as a premise, TRAPPED ON A BOAT WITH DRACULA might have some potential, sort of ALIEN: 1897, but little of it is realised. It’s not offensively bad, just predictable and dull. The film doesn’t even present the Count as a character, or a speaking part – he whispers half a dozen words in total – which seems a bit of an oversight.
If someone is expecting to pay for a trip to Turkey and to hand over $16,500 to have their legs smashed up, and to subsequently, in addition, pay for months of “intensive physical therapy,” and months of disability, probably unable to work, then buying custom shoes and a more flattering wardrobe sounds like a bargain in comparison. Or indeed therapy of some kind.
Again, trying to fix a software problem by smashing up the hardware.