WAYWARD WARDEN'S WICKED WAR AGAINST WOMANHOOD

I wanted to be tough and I didn't want tits..I first resented my girlhood at age 11 when I became informed of " The Curse" that I would eventually have to deal with..I remember my mother informing me of this grim event outside of my public high school outlined by a clear, sunny day. My mother said it would be "our secret".

She said there would be blood and I should not be afraid. She said this could happen soon because the women on her side of the family were often early bloomers. She said there might be some pain called "cramps." I was terrified. I didn't understand why this would happen to me or why all women were "cursed."

My mother said it was a " woman's curse" because Eve ate the apple. In sunday school I was told it was "our sin" because some woman I had never met was dumb enough to share her forbidden fruit with some guy who obviously didn't appreciate it.

The conclusive result of this historical event caused "us" to be jettisoned promptly from the safe confines of the boring painless paradise called Eden. Hence the rotten apple that spoiled the bunch. I couldn't see how this treatment was fair or why God hated all women because of a fucking piece of produce. It was just an apple. Why didn't he want them to eat it?

What I especially could not comprehend was that he would still be pissed off about it and take it out on me. What a grudgefuck. How perplexing. At eleven, standing in the sunlight, I knew I would be screwed. I would not be one of the chosen. I would not be ordained the new and improved Virgin Mary. I was marked like a casino deck and ready to be dealt.

My mother told me when I got my period that I was to tell no one except her. I was forbidden to bring up the subject if men or boys were present. The reason she gave for this was that the period was an extremely private thing. To give it that certain neurotic paranoid afraid-of-your-own-sexuality flair she gave it a code name. I felt like an agent of espionage. The code name was Rosy. In this way I could communicate with my mother if others, especially males, were present. She said I should say something like " Rosy came to visit me today and boy was she a pain!" Even at my tender age I knew she was out of her mind. This info just did not compute.

When I was twelve I was in a gang of sorts with three other girls with views similar to my own(or so I thought at the time). My nickname was fingers #14. They called me this since I was an expert shoplifter(a very short lived career.) among other things I did well with my fingers. We sought out trouble whenever and wherever possible. We acted like assholes a good amount of time..part of growing up girl...

Now even though my cramps hurt more than having my arm torn open to the muscle I'm proud to be a woman. I would never turn my tits and cunt in for anything or anybody. Even if some green genie appeared before me offering to turn me into a man..I would plainly refuse. Only a fucking crazy loon would trade forty-five minute orgasms for a higher-paying job.