Roaring Pussy

Pussy.

The first time I ever said it myself was when I was around four. I lived in a commune of sorts (we still called it home). There was a family from England living with us and they called cats pussies. I hung out with the boy a lot and I brought back British words and a little accent to my Japanese American family.

Best British accent I can muster now. “Oh daddy, look at the pussy!” 

“What? Don’t say that!” 

Best British accent I can muster now. 
“Why not, daddy?” 

“It’s not a good word. It means something else, not for your ears.” 

I learned something that day. About shame and fear. I knew it would embarrass my family if I said something that others in British land found purrfectly normal. I also knew my dad  didn’t make up that rule about pussies being bad. 

I decided that feeling I felt just then was icky. I didn’t like to feel icky about things that others didn’t. I didn’t like to feel icky at all. 

Pain I could deal with. I could scream through a spanking or grit my teeth and be defiant like Lady Jane. I could laugh immediately after, especially if the ruler broke on my derrière (haha, serves you right!) or if my brother and I were sobbing in unison like a couple of howling puppies. Heck, sometimes I laughed during (“You guys have got to be kidding me! What a joke!”). Not often. Mostly I was muttering disagreements about the injustice of it all and wailing apologies for my transgressions and asking how many more till I was done.

But icky shame and fear, ugh. What a way to not live.

Still, for years I never said pussy. Even when I was in the free sex group.

Then one day a frenemy told me I was a pussy. I felt it all over again except the intent was to shame or guilt me. I was struggling that year and then… Pussy. 

“I don’t understand why you’re such a pussy.” 

I decided then I might write an ebook one day about The Pussy’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Because, come on.

Men and women go to great lengths for pussies and cats have clearly taken over the Interwebs. This should be a million dollar word at least! A blessing.

Like the maneki neko of Japan.

Heck yes, I’m a pussy.

I’m the pussy that roars. 😉 

Roaring Pussy

We should all be more like pussies. Pussies live the good life.

Stay tuned for Pussy’s Guide to the Galaxy and other roaring titles. Coming to you from procrastination station when the time is right. 

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