Sometimes I want to feel like a child, sometimes I want to feel like a woman. But I never seem to be the right age at the right time.
Ohne Anmeldung kannst du diesen Monat keine Veröffentlichungen mehr lesen.
Um neue Funktionen in vollem Umfang zu nutzen, logge dich ein oder erstelle ein Konto, indem du unten klickst. Es ist kostenlos!
Einloggen
Sometimes I want to feel like a child, sometimes I want to feel like a woman. But I never seem to be the right age at the right time.
Or: The tribulations of Awareness of Myself and Perception of Others, two best enemies with a magical rivalry (Episode 1: Never a Woman at the Right Time).
Part 1
In the supermarket that day, I play-pretend at being a businesswoman; back straight, basket defying the gravity at the very edge of my fingertips, eyebrows slightly furrowed on an almost perfect poker face. I compare prices per kilo while adjusting fictitious glasses on the tip of my nose. I throw my future purchase into the basket with a quick, brisk gesture. The gesture of a woman well-grounded in business -I tell myself.
That’s until a store employee decides to break my fantasy by adding a "yooplah!" to my throw. A yooplah dedicated to me. A Mary Poppins-style "yooplah", a cheer for children. My script is turned upside
Ohne Anmeldung kannst du diesen Monat keine Veröffentlichungen mehr lesen.
Um neue Funktionen in vollem Umfang zu nutzen, logge dich ein oder erstelle ein Konto, indem du unten klickst. Es ist kostenlos!
Einloggen