"Oh, Sorry, I Have ____"
Imagine that you’re standing in front of your family, hair pushed away, as they inspect the back of your neck. Across the base of your neck and the insides of your thighs, you have dark lines that strongly resemble dirt, yet they do not come off no matter how hard your grandmother or father scrub. You’re sent to a strange facility in a big city where they scrape your skin and inspect your body intimately while your father holds your hands and assures you that it’s totally alright, these doctors and nurses are trained and pass no judgment other than the kind that will help you become healthier. You are eleven years old and diagnosed with an underactive thyroid, and you begin taking your first pill. You don’t notice a real difference, but everyone says you must take it to feel normal, so you do.
