ladylike

I didn’t know what a hangnail was. Same for cuticles. Push them back? I looked at my hands. How far?

I never learned how to shave my knees. The blade won’t take the curve. Beads of blood where I grow impatient. I tell a few of my girlfriends, tentatively, by first asking how they did it. Do you bend or straighten? Someone admits to pulling the skin taut, doing their best. Just follow your body another someone says.

I grew up wanting to be as beautiful as my mother when she returned from vacation. Her skin a deep russet, suitcase open: swiped fancy hotel toiletries and a wad of tangled bikinis. Sand seasons the floor in pinches and flare. I collect it like its my memory to keep.

I believed in the temporary plight of the ugly duckling. I believed in velveteen. I wanted to be loved threadbare. Sometimes our greatest gifts leave us full of holes. For the light to fall in, right? I press two frayed outtakes together—hot pink and envy. Pine trees & pepto.