by Rebecca Grenier
Every time I pull my underwear down, he gets so excited.
He bounces to attention.
It’s as if the shear act of me wearing undergarments turns him into a caged animal.
An animal that wants nothing more but to be set free.
But his mere presence makes me sick.
He is a reminder of all the things I failed to accomplish.
The money I didn’t make fast enough, the career choices I didn’t make soon enough, the self-care I always forced to the backseat.
And every time I think I’ve finally ridden myself of his grasp, he returns. Like a leach. Sucking my youth away from me.
I wish I could quit him. But his roots in me are far too deep.
He is my ego incarnate.
He is Samuel.
Two years of laser hair removal was not enough to get rid of him. He is the hair that turned white before I finished my treatments. That no amount of further laser hair removal will get rid of because the pigment is too light to be picked up by the laser.
For better or for worse, he will never leave my side.
‘Til death do us part.
And even then he's going to appear longer because my corpse will shrink due to dehydration.
My first white hair down there.
You and me make quite the pair.
Rebecca Grenier is Queer, Metis, and a Badass Feminist who works as a Screenwriter, Festival Reader, and Blogger.