You are not your bra size, nor are you the width of your
waist, nor are you the slenderness of your calves. You are not your
hair color, your skin color, nor are you a shade of lipstick. Your shoe
size is of no consequence. You are not defined by the amount of
attention you get from males, females, or any combination thereof. You
are not the number of sit-ups you can do, nor are you the number of
calories in a day. You are not your mustache. You are not the hair on
your legs. You are not a little red dress. You are no amalgam of these
things. You are the content of your character. You are the ambitions
that drive you. You are the goals that you set. You are the things that
you laugh at and the words that you say. You are the thoughts you think
and the things you wonder. You are beautiful and desirable not for the
clique you attend, but for the spark of life within you that compels you
to make your life a full and meaningful one. You are beautiful not for
the shape of the vessel, but for the volume of the soul it carries.
I believe it is time
to stop mourning the body of youth
Even in her dewy verdancy, we held
a conflicted relationship
She never quite lived up
to her air brushed sisters. They had
melon breasts
while she had cottage cheese thighs
I believe it is time
to embrace the fragrant dumpling body of middle age
It is more yielding
more willing to both give and
receive
Within its folds are secrets
gained only through time and
experience
I believe it is time
to drape my body in its finest linens and loveliest decorations
Why save them?
Why not now?
It is time to stop mourning the body of youth
and celebrate
Set the table for a feast.
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Fireblossom Fridays, Bodies
