Women (and some men) waste endless time hating their bodies, themSelves. Dissecting our bodies and categorizing them into wishing piles of “thinner”, “thicker”, “longer”, “shorter”, “flatter”, etc. We forget that by dividing we lose touch with our sense of completeness and in order to feel whole we must be at one with ourselves.
We live in a society constantly forcing us to compare our figures to homogeneous images of what has been defined as the perfect body and can’t help but feel inadequate when our appearance deviates from the norm. I have been subjected to the same conditioning. I used to hate my feet.
HATED my feet – the toes were too long; the size too big (9-9 ½, U.S.); the color darker than the rest of my leg; and OH, my little toe! The little toe is truly a little toe. I dreaded summer with all of its flip-flops and the cute sandals I wouldn’t wear. I used to keep my feet buried in the sand at the beach and run to the water out of fear. My shame didn’t end there either. My first lover could attest to my wearing socks every time we were in bed together because I didn’t want to be found out. I’m cute. I didn’t need my feet ruining the image! The freaking image. Eventually I got over it – the lover helped with that – and now I love my feet. Flip-flops, fake tattoos, pedicures and jewels adorn them ALL YEAR!
Making amends with my feet were part of a process. A journey of growth and healing within which brought me a level of understanding only I could give myself. It takes time and something I have found to be helpful with this process of self-love is writing. I invite you to try it for yourself.
Now I am not a writer nor do I profess to be one, but in an attempt to find the beauty in another part of my body I have had conflict with for many years, I wrote the following poem. An ode, really. Enjoy!
An Ode to My Thighs
There you are peeking from
Underneath my skirt
Shifting by the weight of each foot.
The curves of your muscles
Lengthening and contracting with my steps
You’re there supporting my every move
Whether walking, sitting, running or dancing.
Thick with skin so silky smooth
You are a place to rest my hands
And a pillow for my Lover’s head.
Holding strength unmatched by any other limb
Covered in Beautiful Browns and darkening
In the meeting folds of lusciousness.
Guarding gems from the desires of an anxious suitor
All the while giggling just inside the jiggle
I thank you for knowing
When to hold ‘em and…
When to fold ‘em.