Touch your toes.
Bend over and touch your toes. Feel the energy coursing through your body, feel your limbs twisting and turning, willow in the wind.
2.
Raise your arms.
Reach for the stars, the galaxy, the universe. Let your fingers, swift and nimble, pluck the fruits of your hard work.
3.
Yoga is for the women who have nannies and chefs and housekeepers and drive black Range Rovers and hold on to their Birkin bags like it's not a valuable investment and have brunches on the daily and talk about juice fasts and go on trips because they feel like it.
4.
Women like my twin.
5.
Women who need to talk about everything and need to be validated and have never labored for an honest day's wage proclaim themselves experts on childcare, nutrition, and husband keeping.
6.
My twin. Willow in the wind, supple, a raving beauty, men's woman.
7.
Exclusive shenanigans such as leadership retreats and business women hangouts and coaching calls and Twitter spaces and mentorship programs. Such things as these belong to these women, women like my twin.
8.
A spa, a daycare with a fancy name, a salon, two boutiques, membership at some snotty club, the ears of First Ladies across the country, and the most adoring husband. She has it all.
9.
I wish she had never been born. Like a chimera, she ought to live in my body. Telling me what to do, twintuition they call it. Fucked up shit is what it is. But she lives, happy, unaware, and blissfully so.
10.
I am the oak, gnarled, sturdy, and ugly. I exist as the garbage on a mound of earth.
The End.
That's some scary talk there, no?
I'm fascinated by twins and the 'knowing what the other' is thinking thing which may or may not be entirely true.
Plus, do they go through life all roses and lilies, hearts entwined forever?
I am yet to meet twins who do not like each other, they only exist in books. But then, I haven't met all the twins in the world, so...
I had a lot of fun writing this one though.
And it is experimental, purely.
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