Was it going to be a boy or girl? Was it ok, was it my fathers? That was when it happened, you broke down, I couldn’t just leave you crying. I held ...ou still and tight, everything in my brain was telling me to leave, I couldn’t be involved with your life. Yet everything in my body was telling me to hold you. Somehow I scribbled my number just in case you wanted to get hold of me. You left, I don’t know why, but you seemed embarrassed. I wanted to take that away, I knew the reason why you had. Exercises with thesame object were carefully supervised. I wore face-masks for mycomplexion, gloves at night to whiten my hands. My skin was carefullytended, my hair treated with lotions and so successfully that it grewextraordinarily thickly and in two years hung down below my waist. Iwas never allowed to see myself in a mirror, for fear, I suppose, lestI should revolt against the system. But of course I was none the lessaware that curves were coming where before there had been angles,. More

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