My limp hair
My plump lips
My high cheekbones
My wide hips
My soft stomach
My long legs
My cellulite
My small breasts
My clear skin
My straight teeth
The eyebrows I pluck
At least once a week
Long fingers
A long neck
The curves that define
And celebrate my sex
The dark circles
Under my eyes
The way a skirt looks
About mid-thigh
Calloused feet
Dirty blond hair
Broad shoulders
Strong nails
I’m not flawless
And I don’t care.
My self-esteem
Goes up and down
My self-esteem and I
Go round and round
But at the end of the day,
I accept me
and whatever the years bring
for sake of being free.
This is a simple poem in the fact that it’s direct and obvious. But it was important for me to write it because it so directly and obviously lists things I love and hate about my body all at the same time in an effort to accept it. It’s the kind of thing where you are trying to speak a truth into being- “I’m not flawless and I don’t care” -because you see how that line is followed by the one about my self esteem.
I’m pretty sure I wrote this after watching Dr. 90210 and thinking about the extent that people (often women) will go to “correct” their physical flaws. It’s honestly pretty horrifying if you really watch it, if you really think about disliking something about yourself so very much that you expensively and artificially alter your body. And the if self-image does not improve, it will just go on and on, surgery and treatment after surgery and treatment.
I have without a doubt been filled with what could be described as nothing else but self loathing when looking at my body. I have been sure that I am less worthy of attention, affection, and appreciation because of my flaws. And this is a destructive and desperate place to be. I don’t think you’re a horrible person if you have plastic surgery for strictly cosmetic purposes or Botox injections. But I do think you need to check in with yourself about your motives and about how permanent is this as a solution.
I changed the word perfect to the word flawless in this poem after reading a response someone had wrote to an entry on my wordpress blog about the fear of not being perfect. His response was that “Perfection has a bad rap. A case of mis-labeling…What many don’t realize perfection isn’t perfect, and it is perfect just because of this. Everything is perfect in its happening.”
When someone wants to be perfect it means they want everyone to believe they are exactly whatever they want them to be.
Should we work to become the best versions of ourselves? Yes. Always. Should we think we need to look differently than we do to be worthy? No. Never. Is everyone’s version of beauty the same? Not initially maybe. We all find different things attractive: different clothing styles, body types, lifestyles we are drawn to. Preferences that influence our initial concept of beauty, which is how attractive that person is to us. But there is an aspect of beauty that is recognized by everyone, that is undeniable, and no doubt it comes from a much deeper spring than the one from which we draw upon our tastes and inclinations.
I want to be beautiful. I want people to say I’m beautiful and think I’m beautiful and tell me I’m beautiful. We all do. No matter how old or married or anti-social or non-sexual we are are, we want this. But we must believe this of ourselves, we must tell this to ourselves. We are our greatest friend and our worst enemy because we have limitless power within us to utilize for or against ourselves. Our physical bodies are important. They house our souls. We should be concerned with them and care for them and decorate them. We should work to be pleased with them. They are the first thing people see. They should radiate with our beauty. But I don’t really think you can buy that beauty.
