A friend's mother said
Never accept a boy's tongue in your mouth,
and Girls who sit with their knees apart look like sluts,
and I won't make you that dress until you lose ten pounds.
I hated her,
because all her instruction implied
that I might be a fat slut.
I decided then, at the somewhat tender age of nineteen,
that we'd suffered a terrible logic reversal,
because her lessons about dresses and coquettish sitting styles
were truly designed to raise the price of a monogamous courtesan,
which made her the whore,
not I who had the freedom to take up space
and cum when I wanted.