Springtime

There was a time when things were different: new and fresh, where I didn't need to look back and think about how things were when everything was fine.

In the springtime, I wear shorty shorts which show off my thighs. Yes, it's raining, but who gives a damn. It's May, and it was humid yesterday. And since it's springtime, about time I bore some flesh. And no, nobody is going to make remarks or grab me from the behind. It's unPC.

So where was I all these days? Holding my head down, wondering how to appease the crowd, and generally not being myself. Because you can't be yourself in the place I'm at.

I'd love to sing my heart out in the middle of the park; to hold hands with a guy walking past Harrods; to bear some cleavage. Oh no, my new bra needs to hide the hardness of what should be natural when the A/C's on full blast.

That was an apt closing, looking back. I shall name the post 'Springtime' because it's a new beginning.