I am a freckled and pinkish, slightly overweight female. I have soft hands and I play at manual labor rather than work to earn a living. However, I am increasingly aware that this body does not obey. It aches and bursts, creams desire, flinches, hungers, sweats and thirsts. This body itches and yearns, screams and wobbles, swells and grows lumpy. It grumbles and leaks and trundles forward. But, it does not obey. Fortunately my bathroom door hides the work necessary to appear as if I were an ethereal, delicate being unencumbered by the body’s needs and its (increasing) failures. I close the door, drop my pants, piss and wipe, scour away grime and smooth my eyebrows as I squint at the face in the mirror; clear eyes, small ears, heavy cheeks, and wrinkled neck. I straighten my blouse and return to the party. Continue reading →