I hate being able to feel my insides cleanse me. The intensity literally feels like waves up, and down and out. The hands invisible, knead me, ready me. Me, I'm irrelevant to this bodily process. I haven't contributed anything of use,so why shouldn't I appreciate the bloodshed? It makes me a woman. This pains supposed to be my pride at my age, isn't it? It makes me a woman. Whose will tell me I am the woman I say I'm not? Who will call me woman, knowingly aware that woman is what I am?  Not even I have words to make me woman, so who? Who will make a woman out of me?