When I am fully aware of my mortality I am laying on my back with a hand behind my head and the other on my breast. The only time I try to count the bumps on my cieling or connect the silvery flecks on my cieling while marvelling at how someone got them to stick. Again I have to remember what the doctor said...which way do I palpate? Does that lump feel like a peanut? I am feeling my feminity and trying to figure out what the other markers are which tells me and others I am gendered and sexed female. Hair, I have grown it long. I can now pull my hair into a ponytail or wear it down letting it rest on my shoulders. Yes I have long hair, will my hair make me female? Makeup. I have invested many of my hard earned dollars into foundation, what exactly is my foundation supporting? Feminine! Eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara, because the colors will distinguish me from the male sex or gender. Clothing, I knew I should have bought more skirts. I never did like my legs. Perhaps the self loathing is what indicates I am female. I try not to think of the babies that couldn't feed from me if my breasts were gone. I try not to think of how my lover would be unable to touch me without noticing something very integral to identifying sex is missing. I do enjoy the sense of my lover on my breast, I try not to imagine what I would do without that sensation. I try to remove myself from the any ideas of removing my breasts in order to save my life as I touch my breasts to find what spells end of female, feminine, woman, lady, girl, ...me?
No comments:
Post a Comment