From the hip

So, I’m sitting here at the car fixing place, and working on my poem project (gathering all my poetry, getting it on the computer, printing, and then putting them all together in two pretty binders), and I’m on the folder titled “women.”

“Women” is where I’ve put all the poems having to do with my celebrations, challenges, and issues of being a woman in a woman’s body. I’m finding that mostly I have issues. Or rather, I hope, I HAD issues. Dang, these poems are pitiful.

I don’t think they are pitiful, necessarily, because of my poetry skills (though some are). They are pitiful because it is so obvious from my words that in my 30’s and early 40’s I honestly did not think I had a beautiful bone in my body.

My body – too long, yet too fat. My outlook – frumpy, not sexy in any way. My face, don’t even go there. Did I like anything about myself?

Reading these poems again is very painful. But I do want to document them, because they were my honest feelings at the time. Yes, I can see the storm clouds gathering in my words, I know now where tornadoes are going to strike, and, thank God, I know some powerful rebuilding is going to happen. Even about my body image.

In fact, I’m feeling right now that I need to jot a few lines of body redemption poetry to offset these ghosts, right here, right now, in the car fixing place waiting room. Here goes:

Skinny jeans
I wore them last night

I wore them last night
with heels.

Womanly hips
because I am

Feminine walk
because I do

Let people stare
I don’t care

Of course the long sweater

Okay, we’ll call that a noble effort, but at least I wrote words about accepting my body.

And, yes, I’ll probably always be a little on the modest side, but that’s okay. I can work it.

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