hit 'em wit a muthafuckin branch!
not work safe. personal. heavy. this is your warning.
made an appointment at the tang center about the bleeding. they canceled on me 2 hours before my appointment time.
presented my body image project last night. i ended up writing a poem day of at my office hours [since no one ever shows up lol]. that amused me, because last semester i ended up writing a poem the day of as well.
either way, i sat down in front of the class and read my poem.
My Body
My body, the oasis
The cool calm exterior to my fidgety awkward insides
The intimidator, at times
The protective superficial surface of my insides, my meness.
Me body, the peculiar
The broad shoulders
The dry scalp
The thin calves but thick thighs
The odd curvy hips
The hair.. and my god is there hair
The large feet and hands
The pores, which can’t seem to stop sweating.
The hair… or wait, have I already mentioned that? well more specifically the pubic hair
The large hanging labia
The tongue that isn’t long enough
The inexperience, the nervousness
The protruding clitoris [why can’t I wear these sexy underwear without being incredibly uncomfortable? Why do I have a bump when none of the models or the girls in the locker room do? I shave my pubic hair, it’s still there. The bulge of doom. Too big. Imperfect. Jesus, am I even a woman?]
The sweat patches
The curved spine [should have listened to my mother; it really does stay that way]
The large nipples
The sagging breasts
The plentiful pubic hair
The small boobs
The always eating
The rarely gained weight [‘Are you eating? Don’t lie to me. You’re not fat. I don’t need no… no anorexia in here.’ So I ate. I ate so, so much, just prove I wasn’t one of those girls. The ones with disorders. But body dissatisfaction that leads to massive overeating because skinny girls aren’t pretty enough… well I’d call that disordered eating too.]
The high metabolism [I eat. Fuck you, mom.]
The bump in my underwear [Oh, that? that’s just my PENIS]
The weirdly shaped toes
The small ass
The jiggly arm fat [that you used to play with and laugh about. Thanks]
The being out of shape [I walk everywhere and that’s fine, but anything cardiovascular? I’m out in a few minutes]
The shell that tells everyone to stay away when I need them close
My body, the objectified.
The ass
The hips
The lack of bra
The usually exposed stomach
The stomach hair
The thick thighs
The way my hips move when I walk. When I dance. When I stand. When I breathe.
The demeanor [virgin?! Lololol]
My body, the hidden
The baggy jeans
The iPod to drown everyone out
The sunglasses
The hoodies
The crazy hair, to distract from the body
The rainbows
The fast walk [because, no, I’m not in a hurry. I just don’t want to fucking talk to you.]
My body, the sensual
The goosebumps
The erect nipples [god, touch me]
The lips, swollen from kissing
The other lips, swelling with blood, swelling for you, hot to the touch [touch me, touch me please], wet, so wet
The slight shivers, up and down my body
The arch in my back
The clitoris, erect and proud, calling for attention
The hair, damp, soft
The uneven breaths, pause, gasp, heavy exhale, deep sigh
The lidded eyes, struggling to stay open
The hands, roaming, deft fingers traveling to just the right spots
The hesitation fades away, stroking you slowly
The ears perked, listening to your every sigh, your every gasp, your every shuddering breath
The hips, rolling against yours and matching your body’s movement of their own accord
The nails scratching, clawing, grasping hold… hold of…
My body, the beautiful
The happy smile
The curves
The hair
The huge clitoris [and the source of countless penis jokes that only I understand]
The weird laugh
The awkward dance
The way my hips move when I walk, when I dance, when I stand. When I breath.
The pubic hair [cuz I’ve shaven it and it fucking sucked. My naked cunt was very unhappy]
The crazy hair [because, let’s face it; it fits me. And I love the attention]
The free boobs! [because, dude, giving up bras was one of the best things I’ve done for myself. And 90% of those who try to talk shit are jealous that they either can’t do it too, or don’t have the courage]
The enlarged clit [and yes it deserves just one more mention; it’s my favorite body part and goddamn does it serve me well. Besides, fuck those weird underwear I can’t fit; my Hanes love my clit in all the right ways]
The large labia [because, fuck my friends, fuck Dane Cook, and fuck everyone else who has made me second-guess the beauty of my cunt.]
The lip ring [and the scar from where the other one used to be. Because, fuck you grandma. I’m still fucking gorgeous]
My body, me. Because, no, I’m not defined by my body. But I live in here. Day in, day out, interact with the world and myself through it. Me and my body. Inseparable. Interlocked. Relative. Connected.
My narcissism
My pessimism
My self-love
My laughter
My tears
My love of masturbation
My insecurity
My cunt [last mention, I swear]
My inexperience
My anger
My anxiety
My love of writing
My soul
My philogyny
My sexuality
My blackness
My awkwardness
My beauty.
Me.
the students seemed to like it a lot, and that made me happy. i then put up my paintings
they're glittery! but you ttly can't tell in these pics, boo.
anyway, i went on to talk about how, as you can tell from the poem, a lot of my body issues came from cunthatred and insecurity about how my cunt looks/should look. and my cunt does not define my body image, positive or negative, but it's so important to talk about because i blamed so much of the bad things on it. it was associated with bleeding and cramps and mysterious smells. it was the reason i was stuck in this bullshit called being a girl. it was the source of all the uncomfortable attention i was getting from pervy older men, and it liked other girls way too much. and it was ugly! i mean it gave me orgasms so i dealt with it, but for the most part i hated it. and in a span of like 5 months my cunt went from my least favorite body part, to being my absolute favorite. for a long time, i couldn't really articulate why i had gotten my tattoo.
why? i would usually say, "it's a feminist thing" or something like that. but in writing this poem, i was finally able to coherently say, it's my declaration of dedication, the symbol of my love, not just to my cunt, but to cunts everywhere. i be spreading the love. =)
that said, the next tat will either be the womyn sign, or cuntlove. =)
love to the flist. =D
made an appointment at the tang center about the bleeding. they canceled on me 2 hours before my appointment time.
presented my body image project last night. i ended up writing a poem day of at my office hours [since no one ever shows up lol]. that amused me, because last semester i ended up writing a poem the day of as well.
either way, i sat down in front of the class and read my poem.
My Body
My body, the oasis
The cool calm exterior to my fidgety awkward insides
The intimidator, at times
The protective superficial surface of my insides, my meness.
Me body, the peculiar
The broad shoulders
The dry scalp
The thin calves but thick thighs
The odd curvy hips
The hair.. and my god is there hair
The large feet and hands
The pores, which can’t seem to stop sweating.
The hair… or wait, have I already mentioned that? well more specifically the pubic hair
The large hanging labia
The tongue that isn’t long enough
The inexperience, the nervousness
The protruding clitoris [why can’t I wear these sexy underwear without being incredibly uncomfortable? Why do I have a bump when none of the models or the girls in the locker room do? I shave my pubic hair, it’s still there. The bulge of doom. Too big. Imperfect. Jesus, am I even a woman?]
The sweat patches
The curved spine [should have listened to my mother; it really does stay that way]
The large nipples
The sagging breasts
The plentiful pubic hair
The small boobs
The always eating
The rarely gained weight [‘Are you eating? Don’t lie to me. You’re not fat. I don’t need no… no anorexia in here.’ So I ate. I ate so, so much, just prove I wasn’t one of those girls. The ones with disorders. But body dissatisfaction that leads to massive overeating because skinny girls aren’t pretty enough… well I’d call that disordered eating too.]
The high metabolism [I eat. Fuck you, mom.]
The bump in my underwear [Oh, that? that’s just my PENIS]
The weirdly shaped toes
The small ass
The jiggly arm fat [that you used to play with and laugh about. Thanks]
The being out of shape [I walk everywhere and that’s fine, but anything cardiovascular? I’m out in a few minutes]
The shell that tells everyone to stay away when I need them close
My body, the objectified.
The ass
The hips
The lack of bra
The usually exposed stomach
The stomach hair
The thick thighs
The way my hips move when I walk. When I dance. When I stand. When I breathe.
The demeanor [virgin?! Lololol]
My body, the hidden
The baggy jeans
The iPod to drown everyone out
The sunglasses
The hoodies
The crazy hair, to distract from the body
The rainbows
The fast walk [because, no, I’m not in a hurry. I just don’t want to fucking talk to you.]
My body, the sensual
The goosebumps
The erect nipples [god, touch me]
The lips, swollen from kissing
The other lips, swelling with blood, swelling for you, hot to the touch [touch me, touch me please], wet, so wet
The slight shivers, up and down my body
The arch in my back
The clitoris, erect and proud, calling for attention
The hair, damp, soft
The uneven breaths, pause, gasp, heavy exhale, deep sigh
The lidded eyes, struggling to stay open
The hands, roaming, deft fingers traveling to just the right spots
The hesitation fades away, stroking you slowly
The ears perked, listening to your every sigh, your every gasp, your every shuddering breath
The hips, rolling against yours and matching your body’s movement of their own accord
The nails scratching, clawing, grasping hold… hold of…
My body, the beautiful
The happy smile
The curves
The hair
The huge clitoris [and the source of countless penis jokes that only I understand]
The weird laugh
The awkward dance
The way my hips move when I walk, when I dance, when I stand. When I breath.
The pubic hair [cuz I’ve shaven it and it fucking sucked. My naked cunt was very unhappy]
The crazy hair [because, let’s face it; it fits me. And I love the attention]
The free boobs! [because, dude, giving up bras was one of the best things I’ve done for myself. And 90% of those who try to talk shit are jealous that they either can’t do it too, or don’t have the courage]
The enlarged clit [and yes it deserves just one more mention; it’s my favorite body part and goddamn does it serve me well. Besides, fuck those weird underwear I can’t fit; my Hanes love my clit in all the right ways]
The large labia [because, fuck my friends, fuck Dane Cook, and fuck everyone else who has made me second-guess the beauty of my cunt.]
The lip ring [and the scar from where the other one used to be. Because, fuck you grandma. I’m still fucking gorgeous]
My body, me. Because, no, I’m not defined by my body. But I live in here. Day in, day out, interact with the world and myself through it. Me and my body. Inseparable. Interlocked. Relative. Connected.
My narcissism
My pessimism
My self-love
My laughter
My tears
My love of masturbation
My insecurity
My cunt [last mention, I swear]
My inexperience
My anger
My anxiety
My love of writing
My soul
My philogyny
My sexuality
My blackness
My awkwardness
My beauty.
Me.
Click to viewthe students seemed to like it a lot, and that made me happy. i then put up my paintings
they're glittery! but you ttly can't tell in these pics, boo.
anyway, i went on to talk about how, as you can tell from the poem, a lot of my body issues came from cunthatred and insecurity about how my cunt looks/should look. and my cunt does not define my body image, positive or negative, but it's so important to talk about because i blamed so much of the bad things on it. it was associated with bleeding and cramps and mysterious smells. it was the reason i was stuck in this bullshit called being a girl. it was the source of all the uncomfortable attention i was getting from pervy older men, and it liked other girls way too much. and it was ugly! i mean it gave me orgasms so i dealt with it, but for the most part i hated it. and in a span of like 5 months my cunt went from my least favorite body part, to being my absolute favorite. for a long time, i couldn't really articulate why i had gotten my tattoo.
why? i would usually say, "it's a feminist thing" or something like that. but in writing this poem, i was finally able to coherently say, it's my declaration of dedication, the symbol of my love, not just to my cunt, but to cunts everywhere. i be spreading the love. =)
that said, the next tat will either be the womyn sign, or cuntlove. =)
love to the flist. =D