What Do I Want?
^(Permission to post this one 😄)
^(If you do, please tell me when and where 😄)
It's that time of the month.
I can feel it when I awaken, it feel warm, tight and I'm wet. Already.
My breasts have swollen.
I feel vulnerable, I feel on edge, I feel that every man I see knows how bad I want him to mount me, push his baby into me, then toss me aside.
The hormones make my head spin. I can't leave Uni now, I can't get pregnant. My life, my body, my reputation would be ruined.
But I want to. I need to.
Would motherhood really be that bad?
Drunk or high in the back of a car in a carpark somewhere, an older man above me, pumping away as I drift off..
Whimpering into a camera as I'm bent over a bed, a stranger taking his frustrations out on me, on all fours.
Pinned under a stranger in a Travelodge, him holding my body down. Eyes far away, just using me to get off.
Each one ending in that familiar moan, that little sting of pain as they push in deep. Those pulses.That warmth flooding through me, seeking the egg. Desperate to ruin my body.
The shame, the humiliation.
Not knowing the man who ruined my body.
The stretch marks, the sagging breasts, the driplets of milk, the aching feet, the morning sickness, the widening hips.
The 9 months of carrying it, the pain of pushing out a baby.
The 18 years of responsibility, all for a stranger, someone I don't know.
All for their enjoyment, leaving me alone, to deal with the consequences.
Like a woman should like a good muslima should.
Come say hi.
Necki xx