Bass Of The Brain

Andrea Gibson - Maybe I Need You

Fishnets by Nicole Homer

“When your boyfriend asks you to strip for him, ask him “Why?” When he is in the middle of a word like beautiful or lovely, cut him off. In a voice like an eighth grade bra biting against your spine, ask him about the particulars of your body. Now whatever he says, no matter how many times he uses the word perfect orforever, pretend you did not hear him. Pretend it is not true. And when he tries to tuck the question back into his pocket, distort this small act of kindness into a confirmation.

You are nothing. You are worthless, even to this boy, with “perfect” and “forever” etched into his retinas. Decide not to trust him enough to relax, only enough to follow through.Then pick a song - pick a song with a beat you can pretend to dance to. Stay away from your favorites - they are all sad. If you are feeling adventurous, if you need a new punishment for owning this traitorous body, pick a song that encourages a costume, like a maid or a cowgirl. Buy the costume at a sex shop with blacked out windows. The front door will warn you: this is no place for children. The store will remind you of your body, each aisle a dirty finger, a freak show, of what you are willing to do. Practice for the stage by avoiding eye contact with the salesgirl. Find something small, see-through, cut out, fishnet. And when she compliments you on how well you wear the nothing you are trying on, know that she is a liar who works on commission.

When you leave the store, plain white plastic bag in hand, think of the boy. How your body has always contorted his mouth into a smile, his hands kinder than mirrors, his voice a life jacket inflating. Then remind yourself, nothing is free. When you get home, find the most unforgiving mirror in the house, fill each lamp with one hundred watt eyes, take a permanent marker to the parts of yourself you hate. Start with your face. Your nose, its bony bridge; your chin; every dirty pore; your two, small, A-symmetrical breasts; your stomach, all of it.Each leg, each ankle, each large foot. Do not stop until you are all stained.

Know that you have at least one good use. When the boy comes home, finds you a pile of ink and fishnet, hide your face, open your legs. When he strips the disguise from your body, when he wipes each inch of you clean, when he pushes your knees back together, ask him again: “Why?” And when he says he doesn’t want to see you, don’t cry, don’t wail and shed the sheets. Let him speak.