 |
|
They say a woman's work is never done. She recalls her
mother cooking, mopping, dusting, washing, hanging
clothes on the line. All those clothespins in her mouth,
you'd think she would choke on them. Not her. She might
live in a trailer, but it's got a washer and dryer. Not that
she has children. Not that she washes much. But she likes,
sometimes, to stare at the clothes swirling round and
round and round. Damn cops, they think they're so brave
and strong, but it's all pretense. What real man would
think to look twice at soggy clothes? Fatso slaps cuffs on
her wrists, so proud of himself – bet you ten to one he loved
to sit on his mother's shoulders and hang his father's
boxers on the line, at the same time sneaking a whiff of his
sister's nightgown.
|
 |
Designer creates wall of breasts |
 |
|
 |
|
He's always had a problem knowing what matters to
women, but lingerie often seemed a safe bet. In college it
was no problem, with sorority girls all but shouting their
bust sizes from the open windows. At twenty-five he
bought his fiancé a red silk and lace bra too large, only to
have her burst out in tears, crying that she couldn't live up
to his dreams of her. They broke up the next month, but
he'd already been conditioned to start small. The second
woman he was serious about threw the gift box back in his
face, screaming that he never even looked at her. When the
wall of breasts opened at the new department store, he and
other men would stroll along the neat silicon rows, feeling
now one breast, now another, until they found one that
seemed the right fit in their hands. Or just feeling, moving
on, and feeling once more. The store was near his office
and he returned often, skipping lunch. And when his wife,
years later, learned she would need a mastectomy, this was
the most comforting place he thought to bring her.
|
 |
|
|
 |
First penis transplant reversed after two weeks |
 |
It doesn't feel right. And he was the only man she ever held
inside her. She never told him that. Those first few times
all she could do to keep from crying out was to grip him
tighter than any woman ever had. And he loved that, and
she learned to love what he loved. Married fifteen years,
and they've never stopped loving each other. Then the
accident last year. Now this. Transplanted from a man half
his age, red and swollen. She can barely look at him. What
should have made her ecstatic terrifies. It's almost as if a
stranger's raping her. And the doctors, looking on, are so
proud.
|
|