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5:38 A.M.
This morning I had that bad feeling again.
In front of the mirror, adjusting my clothes:
"This outfit is lovely, as far as it goes,
But it would look better if I wore the breasts."
"It would look better if I wore the breasts" --!
The breasts are for parties, to shock and to tease,
Or venues where people can dress as they please,
They are not for the plainness of everyday life.
They aren't for the plainness of everyday life,
And they just aren't a quirk I can casually flaunt,
And they aren't in the feminine things that I want,
And I don't understand why I'd crave them this way.
I don't understand why I'd crave them this way,
When I knov very well that they're truly a pain,
And I don't want to deal with the looks of disdain,
But this morning I had that bad feeling again.
Last weekend I had that bad feeling again.
I was wearing an outfit that was mostly in brown,
And feeling prepared for a night on the town -
"A reddish-brown lipstick would be just the right touch."
A reddish-brown lipstick! This is really too much.
There's no way I can wear colored makeup with grace,
It's too likely for people to see on my face,
And I get enough withering looks as it is.
I get enough withering looks as it is,
I have plenty to lose and so little to gain,
And I seem to be being betrayed by my brain,
'Cause last weekend I had that bad feeling again.
And last night in the shower I noticed again
That I seem to be shaving a lot of my skin,
That I can't stop the maintenance once I begin,
That my face is depressing unless it's shaved clean.
My face is depressing unless it's shaved clean,
And I just went last week to get my legs waxed again.
My gender successes are becoming my bane.
For my hesitant forays are now a refrain,
And the things that were daring are now still too plain.
And I think that I'm gradually going insane.
© Columbine
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