from the time i was old enough to know the word
i have been a ****
not because i have a lot of ***
not because i dress a certain way
not because i “ask for it”
but because i am a woman, and from the time a boy is old enough to know the word
it is not something he can be
but rather what the girls who reject him are
the girls who aren’t interested
the girls who say no
the girls who make him angry enough to scream that slur their way
because obviously someone uninterested in *** with you is getting a hell of a lot of it elsewhere
there’s also the small problem of puberty, i grew and changed in what my mom said was a beautiful entrance to womanhood
what my dad said would be the death of him
what the girls in my class said wasn’t fair
what the boys in my class only whispered and snickered about, the curves and winding roads of my body were something those pre-driver’s license middle-schoolers couldn’t fathom venturing down
what i wouldn’t give to be there again
now i’ve grown even more, too many late night snacks and desserts have led to a distribution of weight that is less than ideal - not by the worlds standards, oh no - but my mine? my ******* are fashioned to give life to a child, but i can’t wear swimsuits or low cut shirts or anything without a bra because i will “draw the wrong kind of attention”. why? it’s not as if i chose to have them or that i think they’re even particularly ****. what is **** about a mass of fat that makes milk on your chest?
but still my wardrobe, my actions, even the body movements i make have been groomed so that the shape of my body is hidden, shamed, and covered.
i am so tired of being shamed for how i am. i was made this way, i didn’t choose it, but i can’t wear the cute clothes or play the same games or even speak the same way my friends can because i always have to be conscious of how it could come across.

because no girl wants to be called a ****, now do they?