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12 pages, Audiobook
First published March 28, 2023
We mutilated our hair, cultivating our arm leg pit vagina hair for months like farmers growing wheat, until we cropped it off in one hour, together at the shaving party before the big meet.
We mutilated our guts with bowls of raw oats mixed with applesauce, stacks of banana walnut pancakes, pots of pasta mingled with marinara and basil, shakes of protein powder blended with egg whites, casseroles of coalesced buffalo chicken dip.
We mutilated our beauty, though this sense of beauty was an outdated version defined by narrow wrists and bird bones. We created a new and improved beauty from weightlifting, stair climbing, swim practicing. Our shoulders thickened, our thighs expanded, our muscles bouldered…
I was thirteen years old. I did not understand what was happening. I bled through my underwear, which we bought from Target using the 5 for $20 deal, my mother and I sharing the treasures of our haul – she used the first two of those five and I used three. I leaked onto our dining room’s upholstered oatmeal-colored chairs. I left skid marks evoking roadkill, whose carnage I knew well – Pennsylvania had a deer-overpopulation problem, and anytime I hopped into our car, I prepared myself for the inevitable sight of deer carcass in the road gutters, no matter how short our drive. Once my mother had hit a deer when we were driving to swim practice; its body flopped and landed on the windshield with a thud before sliding off onto the road. We didn’t have the time or money to repair the crack for months. When I took off my pants, the clump of blood there reminded me of the large shovels attached to the municipal Department of Transportation trucks scooping up the fore once composed as a doe.
He inhaled and lifted the whistle to his mouth, but before he could blow, I dove into the pool. I couldn’t wait any longer. I was so close. I wanted to touch water without other children inside it too. Their bodies would have corrupted my experience. And I had already grasped how men liked it when I did things they wanted without them needing to ask first.
Menstruation was more smashed acidic tomatoes than sweet fruit compote. I wiped my fingers on white jeans made of napkins and left streaks dried to rust. The stains came out with bleach and detergent. I died and regenerated every month. How else could I define the experience? The reasonable explanation was death. I would declare when my body was wheeled into the morgue, the coroner would declare I died of being a woman. Which was far better than dying of being a man.
I was furious I was forced to push a cardboard-and-cotton tube into my vagina before a dick or a finger – pain before pleasure.
“I dreamt myths larger than my girl body could hold.”
❝𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚗 𝚈𝚞. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 人鱼. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢?
𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎. 𝙰 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘 𝙰𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘 𝙽𝚞𝚠𝚊. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎. 𝙼𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕.❞
❝𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕? 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙰 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛? 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎.❞
❝𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑-𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑. 𝙸𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎.❞
lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
❝𝙸 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸’𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜.❞
❝𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎? 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙸 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗.❞