Breasts

The day I got breasts was when I got cast out of my group of friends.
I was ten, maybe eleven and really convinced that my chest would always be flat, that I would never be femme.
Thanks to these lumps of flesh I was no longer part of the gang, from one of the guys to object in less than a second.

I wanted to play tag, to build forts and laugh but the straps on my shoulders were traps and the confused stares and gasps made my eyes swell, tears rolling down cheeks as their parents said “girls can’t be knights” but if I’m not a knight then why do I have to wear armour with padding that makes my breasts seem twice their size? I refuse to push these lies, because these things on my chest do not bind me to the female sex.

I am not a girl, no she, not a woman, no lady. I’m me.

He.

 

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