The Water Cure

by Sophie Mackintosh

It causes me a lot of stress to think about pushing the wet lump of my baby out into a compromised world.

We test our mother’s spirit, hurt her without even realizing. Daughters are always thankless, we know by now. You could cut yourself on the sharpness of our disregard. We’re vain, senseless, arrogant. This morning I’ll admit I did pull the skin around my eyes to test the elasticity, I did put on the whitest dress – vinegar-bleached, eyelets at the hem.

No, his is the type of body that heals almost immediately, otherwise known as a man’s body.

Absorbing the guilt and the sorrow is something the world expects of women.