© 2018 Varga Júlia


Water me

- 2018-03-31

Water me, so I’ll stay fresh, I won’t dry out, I’ll remain a round grape on the tip of your tongue, I won’t become a raisin in your two weeks old cake.

Come in, my dear visitor – I mean my brave warrior, who came to me through time and space, fighting with early morning tiredness, lack of clean and ironed shirts, huge traffic jams and the law that forbid drunk driving. Hurry in, make yourself comfortable, and please – please, water me.

Water me, because you are the only one who can preserve my youth and my beauty, I am not able to do it alone. Take that perfume sample out of the back pocket of your jeans, read me that silly poem you found on the internet – I can’t ask you to write a different literary masterpiece to every girl you visit on this busy day -, and don’t be shy to water your drying and dying precious little flower – me.

You are so good to me – let me reward you with some worthless but kind gift, a couple of shots, some chocolate or money, or here – take my hand-painted eggs that I made for you. You seriously need a lot of energy – should visit a lot of other girls, you have to save all women in the area from drying out. Don’t forget your mother, your future girlfriends and ex-wives.

We were waiting for you at home cleaning, cooking and dressing up – we did our hair and make up to cover the symptoms of age until you arrive and erase time stamps from our face. We know where our place and what are our responsibility in this game. And it is this: to let you, men, think, you are the reason why we stay young and fresh.

You come, water, and leave. We stay, we take it, and we let you leave to another girl, and we are thankful that you didn’t forget us and that you didn’t arrive with a basket of ice cold water how your ancestors did. Of course we are grateful to those girls who died in pneumonia because of this, so you could realize it is may not be the best solution. What a small price to pay.

And at the end of the day we try to wash out every single disgusting, cheap and stinky smell out of our hair and praying to mother nature to send us some rainstorm – to wash away our guilt to make men believe in this shit and serving their vanity.

Photo Credit: Fortepan


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