I wish I would have been born into a Muslim family.
okay… I know all the hardships that are involved with what I just said… but let’s forget about the oppression for just a second if that’s remotely possible?
What I’m talking about here is that wish that I would have been born into a life where getting such big boobs at 11 years old did not mean that that is what I would learn to Value myself on… what society would teach a young girl is her worth in life. Even at such a tender age boys stopped looking into my eyes.
Even now as a middle-aged woman there is not any type of clothing that I can put on that covers them two Whoppers other than getting these giant tents that made me look like a floating blimp.
Maybe if someone had fallen in love with me before they ever seen my breasts I would have known what it felt like to be loved for my heart and not these two things hanging from my chest
they fed three children so beautifully that was the only time that I was loved for my breasts that mattered.
Now I sit, completely covered including my hair,
across from what are supposed to be religious men with marriage in mind yet within weeks they are asking me to lift my shirt
is anything not about the flesh?
And why do I long for it so?
If I hate my breasts so much why do I long for someone who loves me to nuzzle between them how can I hate and love a part of my body so desperately?
how can I squish them and mash them in tight bras trying to hide them so no one will look at me and at the same time fantasize about a husband who can’t get enough of them?
Still
hate runs so deep and I’ve been told that I’m not allowed to hate myself according to Islam
I’m not supposed to despair in the mercy of Allah and he has made me perfectly which meant that he had every intention of me having these gigantic tits
I suppose a test with what I would do with them and how many times did I fail?
Now So Unworthy of love
So Unworthy of that hand that reaches out in love
not lust
to grab me and pull me near in the Darkness
Shears Tears and Rice 