Today I am title-less. This post, anyway. It's like being shirtless. Have you ever been shirtless, as a female, in a non-sexual way? It's a great feeling, and always made me resent that boys get to do it and I can't. Freud is so off-base about the kinds of things that make you jealous of males; trust me, it's not the penis. But riding a bike down the street with wind breezing against my chest, touching all my skin there, and rounding out over my shoulders, that is plenty to be jealous of. Even when you're older, and you can hang out in your own house reading a magazine and eating a sandwich, lounged in a beanbag or recliner with no shirt on, a boyfriend or husband will find you sexy, and want to ruin the vibe of the moment by changing the mode to swanky music. Or, if you have a boyfriend or husband lurking around, there is the compulsion, the obligation, to suck in the parts of stomach that fold up when lounging with the newspaper, one leg crossed over the other. Either way, attention to it wrecks it.

I like the feeling of naked from the waist up.
When was the last time I got to feel sunshine and wind on my rib cage?
Boys and men get to feel the sensual pleasures of nature in addition to the ones of sex.
Of that, I am jealous.
(Also of how they can bond over a game of pool.)