She remembered swimming when everything was easy, as a child.

It was the thing that she had loved the most

The feel of the water on her body had always been something special to her. She missed it. She missed the happiness of it

The hot weather that came with it. That called for it

That took her out of school early when it was too scorching to bear and the schools would surrender to the call of the big blue.

Before the boys from school turn up as teenagers

And her body changed, and the men turned their heads.

The rules changed.

Before the boys would taunt her the next day.

Nobody ever told her that this would happen

That the rules would change

That monitoring would be required

She didn’t want this body. That was neither fat nor thin.

She didn’t want the other girls body either.

The one they taunted for other reasons

Approving reasons.

She wanted to be a boy. For it to not matter what her body looked like when she wanted to swim

Because no matter what, this girls body, it seemed

Was now only an object for the boys to judge

To tease. To want. Or reject.

It wasn’t hers anymore it seemed

It was property of the patriarchy

Eventually, the swimsuits she outwore

Were thrown away.

And never replaced.

Eventually she forgot the excitement of the pool

And the hunger for food she always had afterwards

But she never forgot how much she loved it.

And on this hot summers day, she sat there on the grass

Watching the boys diving

And she wished she was a child again.






N.E. Teeuw is a writer, poet and occasional songstress, who grew up in Melbourne, Australia. A writer of short stories, poetry and prose she has recently completed her first book titled One Hundred Valentines, which is a beautiful collaboration of poetry, painting and prose and a story of love, loss, sensuality, self-discovery and ultimately, self-love.

Post a Comment

Previous Post Next Post