In Chapter 2, Offred describes her relationship with Rita, one of the women who serves as a housekeeper for the Commander and Serena Joy. Rita and Offred do not get along, though not for Offred's lack of willingness or trying. In the following passage, Offred reveals through metaphor that Rita's opinion of her hinges on things Offred herself cannot control:
The frown isn't personal: it's the red dress she disapproves of, and what it stands for. She thinks I may be catching, like a disease or any form of bad luck.
Offred compares herself—more specifically, the state of being a Handmaid—to a disease. The sexuality these women have access to is frightening to others, even if their presence in society is considered necessary. Both Rita and Offred herself (though perhaps to a lesser degree) have bought into this fear of female sexuality, doing everything they can to distance themselves from the perception of promiscuity. Offred can no more control Rita's opinion of her than she can control Gilead's oppressive theocracy. Offred lacks control over how others perceive her, to an extreme degree: she was forced into the role of Handmaid and has no agency within her position. Despite this, she cannot escape judgement.
In Chapter 4, Atwood begins to explore Offred's relationship to her body, breaking down the effect an oppressive theocracy would have on a person's relationship to sex. Offred herself frequently conflates sex and death through metaphor, as in the passage below:
What if I were to peel off my red shroud and show myself to him, to them, by the uncertain light of the lanterns?
Offred describes her red robes as a shroud—a garment used to cover dead bodies at funerals. Under the conditions of oppression, Offred sees herself not as a bringer of life, but as a body already dead. Life under this regime does not feel real to Offred; she views her existence now as a kind of death of her previous self.
The image of Offred as a red-shrouded dead body connects to the sexual "coldness" Gilead requires of her. In this society, women are not permitted sexual needs or desires: the act itself is scheduled, mechanic, purely functional, and not meant as a source of pleasure or intimacy. Gilead has endeavored to remove one of the most important elements of sexual intimacy from the act: human connection. It is hardly any wonder that Offred feels physically "dead" when desire is prohibited.
In the following excerpt from Chapter 13, Offred uses metaphor to illustrate the sense of detachment she feels from her body:
I used to think of my body as an instrument, of pleasure, or a means of transportation, or an implement for the accomplishment of my will . . . . Now the flesh arranges itself differently. I'm a cloud, congealed around a central object, the shape of a pear, which is hard and more real than I am . . . . Every month there is a moon, gigantic, round, heavy, an omen.
In this series of metaphors, Offred describes the shift that has occurred in her perception of her own body during her time spent living under this religious regime. Where she once would have compared her body to an instrument or tool—functional, practical, and, most importantly, in her control—she now feels that she is at the mercy of its biological whims. She is "congealed around a central object," her uterus, and her entire bodily identity hinges on her ability to conceive children. Gilead's propaganda has even altered how Offred conceives of time: her internal clock is now attuned to the monthly cycles of the moon, connected symbolically to her menstrual cycle.