Monday, December 21, 2009

Grooming Kit

I'm exploring intimacy, and part of what it means to be a daughter. One of the ways my brain and body want to discuss it goes like this:

Leigh: Before you existed, I dreamed of you. Wished for you and read books about men cupping both of you from behind. My breasts, mountainous flesh that makes men weak. (Not just the men) And because of you, they wanted me. As though we were connected.

Leigh and Breasts, In unison: But I -- But Leigh would not be groomed.

Breasts: "Leigh was zero parts Lolita. She would not have it. Not her thing."

Leigh and Breasts, In unison: "Fathers are not supposed to fuck their daughters, no matter how old or unrelated they are."

Leigh: Infractions resulted in a back-the-fuck-off reaction. Wouldn't you agree?

Breasts: But they did take no for an answer. Each and every one. At least they did that.

Leigh: And for that I am grateful. But still, because I would not be groomed, there is no proof. There is no rape kit, because there was no rape. Just grooming. Is there a grooming kit?
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