Margins Magazine Issue 1 - Page 14

NEVER THE SAME BIANCA WALKER 14 NEVER THE SAME Cami slipped the strap of her top over her shoulder and it fell onto her upper arm with hardly any impact. It was a thin strap, pink and frayed, nothing like the sandy brown suspender on the overalls she wore in her childhood in Africa: the dirt-clogged cloth used to thump her arm as it fell, while she swung on branches or danced with the animals and bush men. Her overalls would slip down a bit when this happened and her non-existent breasts would play with the cool grasslands air. Older now, and far from the African plains, her pink top clung to her chest, to the overprotected parts of a repeat creation. Every woman was made the same, yet every woman hid her sameness. Cami hated that second, pink skin and the elastic that made marks around her chest and her waist, branding her. She often placed her finger on the sore, red dent and followed the narrow moat around the sides of her waist. Don’t cross this line, it said in the stinging caused by her touch. She could find no one in her new home who understood her suffocation. No one except Marilyn Monroe, whose poster hung on her bedroom wall with the words, ‘The body is meant to be seen, not covered up’ in a bold, white font to match Marilyn’s own bold confidence and close-fitted white dress. Cami had found the poster on the street and, reading the words, took it home and BluTacked it straight onto her bedroom wall before looking at it in detail. When she finally placed her eyes upon Marilyn she decided what a torturous dress she was wearing. Later on she would cut o ]