the ones i’d like to read these next few paragraphs will never read them. they have no reason to read what i write because they’ve already sewn up their judgments against me.
i don’t care if you see my panties when my dance partner dips me low and i kick my leg high. i wore panties that cover my ass (instead of a g-string) just in case of that situation. those panties i’m wearing cover more than my string bikini, cover more than you’ll see of me at barton springs. i don’t care what judgments you make of me because you saw my panties. you’re too busy judging my panty-clad ass that you can’t see the joy on my face or the shine in my eyes. you’re missing the good stuff. you’re missing the love you deny yourself when you waste your moments with judgments.
part of me is sorry for you that your judging stares are wasted on me, that you are using your energy ineffectively, that you are only upsetting yourself since your judgments won’t hurt me or change my behavior. but then, i don’t want to pity you and i assume that you don’t want my pity.
your judgments of me empower my resolve to be true to who i am and to choose what matters to me. the flash of panties you see when i’m in a low dip doesn’t matter to me. the thrill i feel upside down in a dip and the exhilarating rush of blood when i snap my body back to standing matter to me. feeling good counts. i’m certain that i’m feeling better than you are when i’m in a dip and you are judging me.
i want you to feel good, too. i want you to do what feels good for you, independent of anyone else’s judgments. i want you to feel liberated and exhilarated. i want to see joy on your face and a twinkle in your eyes. i want you to experience what’s possible between you and me the moment you stop judging me and begin to see what’s inside me. i want to see what’s inside you. i want to love you. and if possible, if you could, i know you’d feel better if you let yourself love me, too.