my ankles are showing

On today's episode of 'None of your business that's why'

Went to see Assassins Creed. Sorry to everyone who hated it but I really enjoyed it. I haven’t played the games though so that could be part of it.

But yes movie ends and the lights don’t come on and the guy beside me leans over right in my bubble to comment on it and ask what I thought. So I make conversation while I obviously gather my things but he doesn’t move out if by way until the lights come on.

I deliberately leave a person ahead of me but he slows down. And then asks “why are you at a movie by yourself?” And I say that I often go by myself and oh there’s the bathrooms byeee.

Take my fine time. Put my headphones on. Come out and give a hasty look around. He’s gone.

No he isn’t.

He’s hovering by the bar. Talks at me even though I’ve headphones on. So I take them off and I’m down top one word answers now. We get out and he says:

“do you want to go for a drink?”

“No. I’m going home”

“do you want to go to the movies sometime?”

“No.”

“Why?” At which point I half laugh because you’re a stranger that’s why.

“Because I like going by myself. Bye.” and basically ran across the street because fuck that.

Seriously though? “Why?”

Here’s a why. Why do you feel entitled to my time and my answers. I’m on the bus now heading home.

This is how I went to school today (October 12th). I also had a leather jacket. When I walked inside my high school, I got yelled at.
Why?
My ankles were showing.

And it wasn’t just me. I saw at least 5 girls being sent home because their jeans were “too short” and their ankles were visible.

I never saw this happen at my school. For some reason, ankles are now considered vulgar and have to be hidden, especially if you’re a girl.

I was luckier than a few of my friends, since they actually decided that I could attend history class without having to hide my shameful and disgusting ankles.

By the end of first period, at least 10 girls had been sent home.

This has to change. You cannot force students to hide their ankles (ANKLES!!!!) when they go to school, a place dedicated to their education.

I go to a sports medicine place that has a PT and chiropractor. Today I’m here for PT for my broken ankle and my chiropractor (who I haven’t seen since pre-break) walked out and said “Thea! How’s it going?” And I laughed and told him I broke my ankle and showed him a picture. I basically live in this office.

now and later

i.

years from now, you in a dress of duck egg blue, your ankles showing, hair a yellow frizz. laughing at my flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. always trying to butch it for you. nails bitten to their core. voice fake-rough and spewing profanities, talking ‘bout how I want to eat you whole.

always trying to be the man you never wanted.

trying to toughen up and prove these barely-there muscles, these twiglet wrists, these birthing hips could protect you if you ever needed it.

ii.

i save your wedding photos to my desktop and consider making one my background picture. your husband is in the photo with you, but I wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for the context.

I see

only you.

glory in a white dress.

you are the most devastating thing my heart has ever known.

iii.

I’m going to beef up so much I can fight all your demons. and scare off strange men with just a grimace. and you’re going to take me home and kiss me girlish. let my hair loose from its baseball cap. remind my breasts they exist at all. oh, the things you can do with your mouth. the things you can do with your soft understanding.

how you release me like a fist that didn’t know it had been clenched so long. how you give me the freedom to give up the act.

and I do.

I melt in your hands.

I pool like rain in a pothole.

iv.

you are an awful far way away from me. you are an awful hunger. a yearning that does not take time outs. a need that takes the midnight watch every night.

this is one of many times I’ve let the ocean make a fool of me.

less of a fool, more of an animal.

more of a howl that its vastness swallows.

v.

still more years from now,

I rise like a fever when you enter a room.

I keep your wedding photo framed on our bedside table,

a reminder that you were not always mine.

a reminder that you have always been glory.

I told my doctor I used to smash my tailbone into the ice every couple of months back before I had to quit figure skating and he looked worried and asked if I had to take 1 to 4 week breaks from skating after that to which I replied “no? they’d only give me ten minutes to sit and then I’d have to go back on the ice again and practice” and his stunned expression is what made me realize that that’s the most accurate description of what sports really is.

Meeting Nate at a tattoo shop

Y/N POV: 

 Today was THE day. No I’m not getting married. I’m getting my first tattoo today!! I thought long and hard about it and I finally decided to get my first tattoo. First of many. I walked to the tattoo shop and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Fortunately my best friend is here with me. I opened the door and walked in. All over the walls there were drawings of tattoos that people can get. I brought my own design. It’s an anchor, for me it means that no matter how shitty life gets I have something to hold on to, that there always is sunshine after the rain.

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years from now, you in a dress of duck egg blue, your ankles showing, hair a yellow frizz. laughing at my flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. always trying to butch it for you. nails bitten to their core. voice fake-rough and spewing profanities, talking ‘bout how I want to eat you whole.

always trying to be the man you never wanted.

trying to toughen up and prove these barely-there muscles, these twiglet wrists, these birthing hips could protect you if you ever needed it.

—  Donna-Marie Riley, now and later