I was sixteen years ago, when my friend called me and I said, 'Marcia, all at sea tomorrow!' and I said, 'Look I have the loop!' declined and so sincerely. I hung up the phone and my grandmother (build 1921) that - bionic ear, he heard the conversation, with stern look told me: 'These are things that are said, are so intimate ... intimacy! You know what I mean intimacy? ' And I know that I thought, smugly, sbuffai.
I thought then, when women hid their shame as menstruation, things had changed and that its cycle blurt friend did not mean to violate their underwear. Even-especially-because, in that specific circumstance, I was the same in 'purple', I was me, at the height of my mental faculties, to believe that time should it become aware of my girl hormonal status. Chapter closed. My underwear was safe and sound. If there had been violations had been perpetrated on me in my losses, so why talk about abuse?
the months and years passed, with me on time, every time there was to go all out to sea, the sky and I told him I said it ... and sometimes even lying, using it as an excuse to stay home, cool , to doze.
Since then, fourteen years have passed and this time my body and, together, my concept of intimacy were modified with a frequency of at least twice a week. In fact, if you follow your body in all its progress, one can become aware of every little change and then the intimate, intimacy, begins to hold an endless series of issues which, though willing, are unable to share with anyone but with whom, with your good placid, shares ownership of your own body. Blurt out these 'nuances' to anyone like a disrespectful act, an act of violence, a violation of private property in all respects. That's what I thought!
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