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seductive kisses
seductive kisses

I am woman, hear me whine.

Tuesday, November 30, 2004
My father always wanted a son. Instead, he got me and my sister. When my older sister was born, he knew they would try again, for a boy. When my mother was pregnant with me, my father was so sure that I would be a boy. He even had a $1000 bet with his brother that he would get a son this second time around. Needless to say, he lost the $1000, and got me. What a consolation prize, eh? My parents never even went for the third time's a charm try. They quit after 2. Snip snip. So from an early age, I always wanted to be a boy. I would always play with older boys in the neighborhood. Trying to outdo them. Which led to many an injury.

When I was 4, I thought I could switch from a little Barbie banana seat bicycle, (training wheels newly removed) to the neighbor boy's 10 speed. I did fine for a few minutes. But once my speed began to increase going down a rather steep incline, I flew over the handlebars. The gash in my knee was quite massive. The neighbor boy carried me home. Mom screamed and was ready to take me to the hospital. Dad said I was tough and I could handle it. He then proceeded to wrap an entire roll of toilet paper around my knee. "There, now people will think you're really hurt."

Once I turned 12 and my boobs started to grow, I decided I liked being a girl. And all my tomboy ways vanished. Until now. I'm sick of being a woman.

I am sick of shaving. My underarms, my legs, my nether regions.
I am sick of cramps, bloating, fatigue, mood swings. Period.
I am sick of ovaries.
I am sick of squatting. Let me pee standing up. Just once.
I am sick of being labeled a slut. A whore. A ho.
I am sick of hair products, make-up, clothes, and body image.

I want to go camping and leave my mark on a tree without having to straddle it. I want to belch, pass gas, and scratch myself all willy-nilly.

Ok, not really. I just wanted to whine. |
10:49 AM :: ::
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