All in Invisibility + Taboo
Colliding stars with the first love of my life was an adventure filled with choices
made on my part that must be featured in every do-not-do list of every etiquette
manual and seduction story ever written ever. The object of my affections inspired all
kinds of behavior I daresay I have not repeated since, and that I have rarely shared the
extent of with anyone.
Starting anything is hard. Unless it's a can of Pringles. Although even that has become a challenge for someone with wide knuckles.
My butt wobbles when I walk. Thighs rub together, the friction thinning out the fabric of my jeans until they’re one wrong move away from busting open.
I am sitting with my legs curled beneath me on the couch. Sun streams through the windows. It is July 2014. I have just explained that six years ago, a girl in my class heard a rumour that I was gay. She was a very popular girl. I was desperate to be like Henrietta. She was skinny, sporty, funny. I was short, pudgy and awkward, with a weird name nowhere near as beautiful as Henrietta. Henrietta. Her name caught in my throat and the whole class watched as she swung her legs over the table, blocking my way.
As a twenty something I’m sure it’s no surprise that I’m a little frustrated. I think most of us are. At the moment I feel like I’m stranded in a weird space between two polarising throes – pride and fear. You see, I’ve noticed a pattern in myself; I tend to get close to a person I’m seeing and all of a sudden it’s as though someone’s flicked some kind of switch, the light’s too bright and I’m out of there before either of our pupils can even adjust.
For someone who used to be annoyingly outgoing, it was even more annoying for my mental well-being that all I wanted to do was hibernate and sleep. I couldn’t eat anything let alone get into a car without feeling like I was going to be sick. Doctors kept giving me pregnancy tests regardless of my “I’m a virgin and a closeted lesbian” debacle in my head.