Friday, June 10, 2016

Stabbed myself in the tit with a car key

It wasn't a cry for help; it was the result of my medication and injury-afflicted hand tremours when I tried to open the gate padlock. For some reason I had the car key extended from its protective shell, like a curious tortoise, and when I fumbled my open lock check the keys slipped and that's how it came to pass that I stabbed myself in my right man breast with the car key.

It didn't penetrate, it's a key—not a knife, but it did hurt. I'm at best an A cup were I a woman, so the target area was small. 

But I can better appreciate the difficulties packing breasts delivers—accidental self key stabbing in the area being but one. 

At uni I had a friend who had been a long distance runner in primary school and early high school. Then her breasts came in and it was just too painful to do it any more. 

We don't choose much in this world; we don't choose our parents, gender or gender identity, sexual identity or what delicious bullshit dross we'll genetically inherit from our ancestors. Then for girls it's the double whammy of seeking equal recognition and opportunity in a world primed for objectification of women. 

I wouldn't choose to be a woman. Not with all the crap they have to put up with—the risk of accidental self-inflicted breast stabbing the least of it.

(Fist raised for Comrade sisters)

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