This piece was spontaneously created at the Esalen Institute Writing Group. Inspired by a free-write assignment based on a card from an erotic Tarot deck.
9 of Earth
She is a giant and she is on display. I feel a little bad for her, wonder if she is embarrassed to be exposed, and I want to tell her the secret is not to be self-conscious. Who are they to look at you? That's what serenity is - not to care who is looking at your white panties or that man running away from your giant ass - it's his fault if he doesn't know what's good for him.
I know what it is to feel like a giantess - to feel exposed, to feel "I am so big amidst all these small people - why do I have so much flesh when they are so slight, so elvin and sylph-like, creatures of the air and the wood when my body is earthen, stable clay that does not shake?"
Who are they to run? And who am I to hide? We are all exposed if we let ourselves be, and the criticism we get from others is so much less than what we lash on ourselves, how we flagellate and pick and prod our exposed flesh until it is raw, like red switch marks on the back of a child's thighs.
What is wrong with the giantess? There is nothing wrong with her - she just has to learn how to ignore the little people beneath her.