by Charlie Kahner Enderby

I became hyper-aware I had breasts when I was 11 and the boy I liked kept glancing down at them. They were packed behind my black training bra and navy uniformed polo. His bushy eyebrows raised and fell with each micro-movement of my body. I itched my collarbone, unclasping one of two buttons, for him to catch a better view.

I had an experience at 14, when I doubled up on sports bras in my mirror, curious as to what my growing body would look like if I had them removed. I was decieving my gender and my juggs. As I pulled the second one over the first, I noticed my stomach become larger and my legs swell up. I broke a stitched thread as I tore it off and watched my body unfurl into normalcy.

When I got my first boyfriend, I was 15. He pressured and pulled at my clothes everytime we were alone. He rarely looked me in the eyes, instead landing on my chest. He peaked down my bra when we were making out, despite my beggings of boundaries he raced to cross. My body, the one thing I can truly call my own, was enslaved to his guilt-tripping hands for five months.

Trying on prom dresses at 17, I wandered around the glorious rooms of rainbow, my mother kept pulling black, sexy v-neck dresses, and while I know she only wanted to make me feel beautiful, I wanted to feel a person, and not a body part.

I was walking down a road of bars at 18. I was young and free and far the fuck away from my parents. The pink vodka I shot back in the car mixed with the marijuana in my system and I felt like the moon. An ugly man catcalled me while making eye contact with them. I went back to my dorm, sinking down into the unending depths of a twin bed.

I am 20 and think about breast reduction/top surgery more than I should. While nothing would ever stop the creeps and the catcalls, I wonder if it would help. I wonder if for once I’ll step outside in my favorite tank top and not be afraid. I wonder if my body would feel like my own. I doubt I’ll do it.

     Charlie Kahner (she/they) is an Oklahoma-based writer and student. She loves writing about different aspects of growing up in the Bible Belt as a queer femme and themes such as homophobia, sexism, and heartbreak. When they aren’t writing, working, or studying, they are spending time with their cats, partner and/or a trashy reality show. You can find her ramblings on Instagram @strawberryboonepoetry.