Circa 1976: The Paradox Of Appearance [Mature Read]

Remember that one summer day
in the middle of your adolescence:
the first time your parents left you alone,
for a whole day (while they shopped for
new and rather boring furniture to show off
to their old and rather boring friends).
You waited for almost an hour to be certain
that they had not turned back, having
forgotten something---a sales paper or coupon.
When you felt certain they were well
on their way, you loosened your long hair---
which they insisted (although with shaming
words and facial expressions) that you wear
bound in a pony tail rather than the
natural cascades of softness that now fell
almost to your waist (the length was a
concession they reluctantly made---and
often repeated their reluctance---
to secure your attendance at the
college of their choice). Then you removed
your shoes (also at their insistence to be
worn even in the house) and the rest of
your clothing. The thrill of being utterly
and totally naked was exhiliarating for
this first time (other than in the shower);
but when you put on that pair of rainbow striped
thigh high socks (that you had recently purchased,
and mostly kept hidden in your room),
the delight---oh yes, and the excitement---
seemed even more exponentially exquisite;

you felt even more naked than you had been,

that gift of the paradox of appearance.
Suddenly, mundane thoughts retreated,
giving way to the instincts of long unspoken desires;
the inhibitions that had preciously restricted you
(even in the shower) just seemed to crumble away.
In front of a full-length mirror, your beauty
made itself intimately known to you,
as your hands began to caress your body.
After that, with the stereo playing loudly
(another forbidden amusement), you danced---
slowly, or rapidly, but so erotically---
through every room in the house, as if
asserting your nakedness and desires;
and your parents, occupying these rooms later,
would be no more aware of the violation
than they were of your delicate feelings
that daily, sometimes hourly, they carelessly trampled.
Then, no longer able to forbear in postponement---
and not really wanting to do so any more---
you opened the yearbook to the photograph
of your crush, your secret crush (what would
he have though about this, had he known?).
Then you brought your pleasure to its surging peak;
and not the last time today,

before those chatterboxes returned,

loudly congratulating themselves for the
bargains they had obtained, through shrews browsing,
always carefully conscious to count costs.




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shilah_sylvester's picture

You have talent

You have a lot of talent. I could have continued reading more of this. Very good. 


Starward's picture

Thank you very much.

Thank you very much.