A Writing Prompt Response One Year Later: Run The World (Girls)
You’re the best in da biz, Elle Beau ❇︎!
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“Girls, we run this mutha (yeah)
Girls, we run this mutha (yeah)
Girls, we run this mutha (yeah)
Girls, we run this mutha, girls.” — Beyonce, Run The World (Girls)
Alright, now that I got us all fired up, and this article has been a year in the making — I’m ready to write!
*licks pencil tip*
Backstory
I first discovered Elle Beau ❇︎ when my ex-husband and I were out of sorts, i.e., he kept insisting on an open marriage, dating other women, and threesomes (oh my!), and I was losing my mind at home with the kids all day trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do: stand up for myself and my kids— or bend over.
I strongly considered the gravity of both options.
Besides Joe Duncan, Elle was the first (female) writer who helped cool my monogam-ish jets during the most confusing time in my life. My appreciation for her views on Monogamy, Ethical Non-monogamy, sex, love, and life, in general, is undeniable. However, while she continued writing earnestly and eloquently about these sensitive subjects, bright red flapping flags kept smacking me in the face when my ex and I discussed similar things in our bedroom.
I followed Elle’s musings for years, and five hundred and eighty days later, I finally had enough courage to respond to her article.
Writing Prompt Response
I have an inverted nipple on my left breast. It never bothered me — and to be perfectly honest, I was blissfully unaware that one of my nipples went inward when it was erect until I got them pierced. So, when the Body Modification Artist (that job title has more of a ring to it than “Piercer”) lined up the holes and marked my areola with that fine-point purple sharpie, he gleefully said, “Hey, your piercings are going to correct your inverted nipple!”
I thought, “Huh? Cool beans!” *shrug*
Then here’s the part of the story where I took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully while the fourteen gauge needle pierced all. the. way. through to the other side of my nipple — twice.
Yes, it hurt. And yes, milk squirted out of all three holes when I breastfed.
Anyway, fast forward to single motherhood and trying to fill the void of shared custody many years later: I’m on my bike cruising down the road with the wind at my back and a thin bright-orange cycling shirt on. And, yup, you guessed it — only my right nipple got excited from the breeze. Since I removed my piercings years ago, when my nipples become erect, nine and a half times out of ten, my right one pops out while my left one goes in.
Are you still with me?
Ok, good.
The pressure we put on ourselves as women is ludicrous.
It never occurred to me how self-conscious I was about having only one hard nipple showing through my shirt until this evening’s bike ride. Then, as I was flying down the hill I had just climbed, I started ranting and raving about what it means to me to be a woman. I’m sick of the world telling me who I need to be to hold some value in this world. Fuck all that noise. I thought I would speak up about who I am instead of the world telling me how it is. Because I just got divorced — and quite frankly, I’m exhausted from holding my shit together all the time.
A Snippet of What Being a Woman Means to Me Today:
- Not caring how many nipples show through your shirt when you’re cold or excited.
- Not wearing make-up all the time. Feeling beautiful with a rejuvenating moisturizer, sunscreen, and soothing lip balm.
- Saying, “No, thank you.” That’s it. Being assertive, classy, and not feeling the overwhelming urge to explain yourself.
- Handling your mountain bike on the open road (that’s twice your size) the way a cowgirl wrangles a two-thousand-pound American Quarter Horse at a rodeo.
- Getting your eyebrows microbladed because the Bod Mod Artist who pierced it messed up your hair growth. Then, waiting ten days for them to heal (so you can sweat again) and getting back into the gym to throw some weight around again.
- Choosing monogamy, non-monogamy, LGBTQIA, and anything in between with an equal amount of kindness in your heart no matter how you choose to live your life.
- Writing articles about anything and everything that your bona fide heart is bursting to share with the world.
- Feeling empowered — standing your ground for what you believe in, whether people agree or not.
- Eating the whole f*cking muffin.
- Being the most vulnerable you can be, and re-reading The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A F*ck by Mark Manson when you get stuck in your head.
- Sleeping (safely) with whomever you want.
- Leaving unhealthy relationships with the clothes on your back, your kids in tow, and moving forward — not back.
I can’t tell you how many times I considered piercing my nipples again, so two hard nipples would show through my shirt instead of one. The pressure we put on ourselves as women is ludicrous. As much as I enjoyed every piercing I ever had (very much so) — I can’t see myself going through that experience again. I’m sort of tapped out on the pain scale right now.
If I had a nickel for every time I saw women with only one hard nipple on TV shows or in magazines — I’d be negative five cents. (Rachel Greene from Friends— here’s looking at you, kid!)
So, to the expectation of the perfect woman, with two perky protruding nipples, I say — Fuck all that noise.
“Flipping through all of these magazines
Telling me who I’m supposed to be
Way too good at camouflage
Can’t see what I am
I just see what I’m not
I’m guilty 'bout everything that I eat
(Every single bit)
Feeling myself is a felony
Jedi level sabotage
Voices in my head make up my entourage'Cause I’m a black belt when I’m beating up on myself
But I’m an expert at giving love to somebody else.” — Demi Lovato, I Love Me
Thank you, Elle Beau, for helping me understand what it means to be a woman, and for sharing your eloquent and ferocious energy on this platform.
