Friday, August 7, 2009


She had, she conceded, big armpits.  She pretended to be ashamed of them in his presence, but the truth was, she loved them and often spent hours sitting on a pile of dirty laundry in the basement, looking in at them.  They were the essence of concavity, and she marveled at their supreme bowl-ness.  When she sunk in her chest and held her head from behind, they became canyons.  As much as she loved them,  she mourned their existence.  Their very position was unfortunate because she would have loved to serve things in them.  Cherries, perhaps.  Or sugar.  


CJAlabama said...

More more more....I love your creative writings...even if they involve hairy armpits!

La Brown Girl said...

I remember this piece. I love how it portrays how, we women especially, will spend all this time obsessing about this one body part. Sometimes positive, sometimes negative.