Breasts and Eggs

It’s like I’m in there, somewhere inside myself, and the body I’m in keeps on changing, more and more and more and more, in ways I don’t even know.

Makiko was a hostess, but that can mean all kinds of different things. Some good, some not so good. Osaka is rife with drinking spots, but an address is enough to tell you what you should expect, in terms of clientele and atmosphere and hostesses. She worked in Shobashi, the neighborhood the three of us worked in for years after we ran off that nig

Concentrating my awareness on my frontal lobe, I rubbed my thoughts together with ferocious speed, like a person rubbing sticks together to make fire, and waited for the smoke to trickle from the wood. Under the assumption that the tomboy was a decent person, I tried to think up a scenario where I’d say one thing and she’d respond agreeably, after

She reminded me of Mum. I couldn’t tell if it was just in the way that daughters start to look like their mothers over time, or if the things that happened to Mum’s body were happening to her now, too.

“The thing about hyaluronic acid is that your body sucks it up and then it’s gone.” She pursed her lips. “For 800,000 yen? No thanks. You’re right, though. It doesn’t leave any scars. It doesn’t even hurt. Honestly, it would be the best thing ever, if it lasted. It’s more for models or celebrities. For those big moments when they need a little extr

In Shobashi, there were a million kinds of bars, including the onabe bars, where the hosts were born as women, but identified as men, and dressed like men, and interacted with their customers as men. The ones who were straight dated women, as guys. But Osaka is a big place. At the fancy clubs in Kitashinchi, the hostesses were of a different calibe

Her speeches had two refrains: “I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna get big boobs,” and “Can I really go through with this?”

I mean, 1,500,000 yen is serious cash. Hard to fathom. Neither of us had that kind of money. It didn’t even sound like a real number. She said 1,500,000 like it was nothing, but I worried that the way I’d said it made it sound like it was too much for her breasts—I’d asked her “Are you really worth that much? Are your breasts worth that kind of an

It feels like I’m trapped inside my body. It decides when I get hungry, and when I’ll get my period. From birth to death, you have to keep eating and making money just to stay alive. I see what working every night does to my mum. It takes it out of her. But what’s it all for? Life is hard enough with just one body. Why would anyone ever want to mak