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Show i n my f a t h e r ' s house/365 I keut up the show of being haooy and well-adlusted but as effectively as I could,Athe small rag of self within me withered u n t i l I became something of a kewpie doll - a bit too hard and bright on the outside to be mistaken for the real thing. From my hollow i n t e r i o r I t r i e d to i n t e r a c t with the boys I dated, hoping I would gain from them something to again lend o n l y me b a l l a s t . But somehow I seemed^to grow more empty, more out-of- balance. I had dated too often and too carelessly, going with almost anyone who showed interest. I believed that my lack of discrimination could be defended: I told myself that I was getting to know 'common folks' - the ordinary souls that we of 'noble soirit-' had never fraternized with. I usually acted stuoid and heirless around my dates. I felt This way I could make the boy feel bigger than*- exactly what I believed he must feel to continue dating a «ag of a person. »iJhat mattered most to me was whether or not we seemed to fit the molds cast by other people -- did we look and ^behave as boy and girl together ought to? As my mother with my father, I never questioned statements made by my dates, even if I knew them to be inarua or preposterous. As my self shriveled, powdering into bitter clust, I found myself competing with the opposite sex in an interior and mysterious way. My sentience of this was intuitive, rather than realized - for it was a time of acting without thinking, of holding to the feelings conserved in my body and acting uPon them. Enormous energy seemed to emanate from my womb and breasts, encouraging me to take the first step in a yromenade °f realizations about the male/female dialectic. |