Let's Hear it for the Man of the Year
Day 2 of writing (almost) everyday of July
I might like my reflection more than I like myself.
On Sunday, I stood under the cold and inconsistent spray of the splash pads at a local playground. Growing inside me was the desire to smell my hair when it molds to my skull under the weight of water. No matter how frequently or infrequently I scrub my scalp, it smells the same when wet. In times where my clothes do not fit right and my body does not feel like itself and all words are stale, the only being real, and being a permeable object. I have been told that my natural scent is that of baby powder, so maybe the memory of my hair is being informed by a sensory experience. Or maybe I found a comfort in myself and something I have taken for granted. It is so deeply human. I know little of the chemical bonds or molecular changes at play, but I do know what feels good and what smells good, and it’s wet hair.
I made myself stay walk through these pads, flinching when the water changed its rhythm or direction. I have been conducting tests like that lately. Trying to take note of how my body accommodates discomfort. The tub spout shoots startlingly cold water and I stick my hand under it, waiting to acclimate. From there, I slowly push my arm through the spray, shivering and comforting myself with the thought that my body will learn how to adjust and protect itself. The real challenge is letting the water hit my back. I have never thought of my back as a sensitive or delicate thing, I have taken the unseen skin for granted, lending it a tough texture that is misrepresentative. Even now, I cannot help but think of the skin on my back as that of tough, grisly meat — you have to chew through it and sit with the discomfort of an overworked jaw.
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day 2 of writing (almost) everyday — really enjoying these short-form styles :)
lots of love,
jasmine <3