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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Perhaps November is a boring month. In Canada at least, it carries no big holidays (Thanksgiving is in October). So people think to theme it. Give it a goal, a bustle, a hustle.
My December_goal is, boringly, walking for 60 minutes each day, but November themes have their own titles:
NaNoWriMo: dear God, I can't write a novel within eight years. Next!
No-Nut November: I don't see the point. But maybe I pass this one on a technicality: assuming "nut" also refers to testicles, anyone without nuts can freely masturbate in November. You're welcome!
No-Shave November: Ha, I make this one too! I didn't shave. But if it's about facial hair in general, I *did* pluck a couple of coarser hairs out of my chin. Every week or so, one springs up. Can't remember if I did the middle of my eyebrows. Probably at least once. I'd pluck moustache-like hairs too if they dared show up. I have this weird sense of femininity about my face: it feels internally wrong if it's not smooth, though I don't feel similarly "wrong" without other supposedly feminine things like makeup. Mysterious. The feminine mystique. Mystique as in X-Men. Ex-men? X or Y, why? Fuck TERFs and not in a sexual way; this is why: if a cis sis like me can have a decided sense of femininity that combines the internal and external, and if other women like me can have a similar sense of femininity but about different things, why not extend this same courtesy to someone born boy-shaped? And vice-versa and et cetera. To think otherwise is a failure of imagination and empathy (and empathy can be a learned trait not necessarily an inherent one). End rant.
It's December now! December is the time when we rant about tangents! Happy tangentolidays!
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