It took less valor than I’m reputed for.
Since I was a small child I have hated men.
Even the feeblest, in their fantasies,
Triumph as sexual athletes, putting the shot
Squarely between the thighs of some meek woman,
While others strut like decathlon champions,
Like royal David hankering after his neighbor’s
Dutiful wife. For myself, I found a husband
Not very prepossessing, but very rich.
Neither of us interested in children.
In my case, the roving hands, the hot tumescence of an uncle,
Weakened my taste for close intimacies.
Ironically, heaven had granted me
What others took to be attractive features
And an alluring body, and which for years
Instinctively I looked upon with shame.
All men seemed stupid in their lecherous,
Self-flattering appetites, which I found repugnant.
But at last, as fate would have it, I found a chance
To put my curse to practical advantage.
It was easy. Holofernes was pretty tight;
I had only to show some cleavage and he was done for.


                                Giorgione, Judith, c. 1505