My boobs are not boobs anymore but alien growths attached to my body
I grow boobs, I get my period, and I dump my boyfriend Christopher because he’s not a football player. My new boyfriend Sean has big muscles and I show him my boobs because he puts his hands around my waist in just the right way. I do not cover my boobs even though they get me in trouble and I spend a lot of time in detention, where I meet Stephen. Sean and Stephen don’t know that they both get to see my boobs until graduation day, when they break up with me, looking like sad puppies. I’ll miss the way Stephen blew in my ear and Sean held my waist in just the right way, but in New York City I encounter a dingy guy on a street corner and suddenly I think maybe I want to cover my boobs after all. I never get my period anymore because my boyfriend Jack hates blood and I keep taking the birth control even through the off weeks. I think of my boobs as a surprise secret for Jack, even though we have been broken up for months and he sees them all the time. One time he wants to introduce my boobs to Mary and I am bothered by how I am not bothered by this, but the feeling lasts for only a second. When Mary moves in with me, we scream like lemmings and my period comes again. It comes the same time as Mary’s, even after she leaves, and I am sleeping with Dave. Dave likes me to talk about Mary and I think maybe I’m old enough to start showing off my boobs again. I show them off to Tom and Tyler and Judith, but not all at once. I show them off to half of New York City and then some of L.A. when I think I’m going to move my boobs there for a second and then move them back because that is where the doctor is who will take care of the lump. My boobs are not boobs anymore but alien growths attached to my body, which the doctor says he still loves anyway when I let him touch me outside the hospital and on our wedding night, and I hate myself because my period stopped completely and I don’t have boobs anymore. I hold myself at night knowing that when it’s time to die, I will die knowing no one ever loved my boobs fully, the way my boobs were meant to be loved—not even me—when they were at their best, and so was I.