My hips are the widest part of me, softly relaxing their orbit in preparation for winter. Below the round of my belly and my spine’s last questioning curve they store food for a long hibernation. This is measured in dimples, in more accessible handles of skin, in more scrapes from narrowing doorjambs. They’re the most creative part of me, expanding when need be, enclosing (generous parentheses) a thought, a pause, a murmur. It’s this breath of space that takes away from the long leanness of the rest of me. I’m small of hand, of chest, so it’s their shape that draws the eye. I’m loath to swing them, quick to hide them, to use them as tools to close a door or as a shelf to hold a bag of groceries at the end of the day. But they’re the most of me; when the season’s been abundant, they’re the first to tell, the first to swell happily in song.
Lilli Carre is quite lovely.
- Hairdresser who goes by “Zelda”
- Romanov imposter
- Extra in film, credited as “Girl With Red Umbrella”
- Fragrance expert
- Teahouse owner
- Late-night jazz radio host
I love being a girl. I can feel what you’re feeling as you’re feeling inside the feeling before. I am an emotional creature. Things do not come to me as intellectual theories or hard-pressed ideas. They pulse through my organs and legs and burn up my ears. Oh, I know when your girlfriend’s really pissed off, even though she appears to give you what you want. I know when a storm is coming. I can feel the invisible stirrings in the air. I can tell you he won’t call back. It’s a vibe I share.
I am an emotional creature. I love that I do not take things lightly. Everything is intense to me, the way I walk in the street, the way my momma wakes me up, the way it’s unbearable when I lose, the way I hear bad news.
I am an emotional creature. I am connected to everything and everyone. I was born like that. Don’t you say all negative that it’s only a teenage thing, or it’s only because I’m a girl. These feelings make me better. They make me present. They make me ready. They make me strong.
I am an emotional creature. There is a particular way of knowing. It’s like the older women somehow forgot. I rejoice that it’s still in my body. Oh, I know when the coconut’s about to fall. I know we have pushed the Earth too far. I know my father isn’t coming back and that no one’s prepared for the fire. I know that lipstick means more than show, and boys are super insecure, and so-called terrorists are made, not born. I know that one kiss could take away all my decision-making ability. And you know what? Sometimes it should. This is not extreme. It’s a girl thing, what would we all be if the big door inside us flew open.
Don’t tell me not to cry, to calm it down, not to be so extreme, to be reasonable. I am emotional creature. It’s how the earth got made, how the wind continues to pollinate. You don’t tell the Atlantic Ocean to behave. I am an emotional creature. Why would you want to shut me down or turn me off? I am your remaining memory. I can take you back. Nothing’s been diluted. Nothing’s leaked out. I love, hear me, I love that I can feel the feelings inside you, even if they stop my life, even if they break my heart, even if they take me off track, they make me responsible.
I am an emotional, I am an emotional, devotional creature. And I love, hear me, I love, love, love, being a girl. Can you say it with me? I love, I love, love, love being a girl.”