Crafted beauty #7: An ode to my body

A lyrical examination of my (the) body

My body is both blessing and betrayal. 

How does it feel to be contained within something you don’t fully agree with?
To be fixed in place by angles and curves you didn’t decide, 
To learn yourself in the context of how these foreign parts move,  
How they interact with fabric, fingers, 
How they interact with a wandering gaze.     

I am held responsible for how my body holds beauty as though I chose it. 
As though I stood in a line and said, “this”.
I wonder if I would have picked differently. What softness I would opt for, what hardness I would give back. 
But I have never doubted my eyes, my smile. The kindness, the joy that I offer myself when I see them. 

My body goes before me, asserting my strength,
And people give me more credit than I deserve — 
For exercise I never did, for food that I hardly reject, 
For the youth that clings to my face without a ‘secret’.

But its strength protects me. 
It insists on itself, keeping me even when I refuse to move. 
Keeping me alive, carrying me through countries, cities, 
Helping me to carry heavy things, 
To open jars, wield tools, to mean it when I say, “I’m fine”.

And there are my stubborn legs, walking me to the edge of my curiosity, 
Tired of running, tired of the youthful speed that left me breathless. 

My body is truth, exposing my feelings before they are spoken, 
My body is in dialogue with you and me at the same time. 

I see the way people change in relation to my body. 
How criticism became admiration and sometimes even desire,
How I wonder if these feelings had always co-existed.  

At the same time, my body is different with age. 
In some ways, it is more unforgiving of me, of my bad habits, 
Holding on to the proof of fitful sleep and poor meals, 
And in some ways, I am more forgiving of it, 
Looking at my bare self and finding beauty almost everywhere. 

How funny the body is — with a program, a predisposition to illnesses, fragility, acne, (depending on the one you get),
How it affects the way you navigate this world, 
How it links with confidence, vitality, shame. 

How you have to prod it, pluck, prime, to keep it safe, keep it pretty. 

It’s a complicated thing, this body. At times, I see it and offer praise, grateful for how it carries me. 
Because, here is the first place that I ever lived. 
Here is what I see when I picture myself, my memories. 
Here is the face that steadies me when I look in the mirror and search for calm.
Here is the only place I will ever be. 
And ultimately, it’s a worthy home.  

And as a related bonus, here is a short piece I wrote a couple of years ago, when I woke up on the sofa yet again:

An ode to the weekend/ why I fall asleep on the sofa
Because my body, which for the whole week has trapped tiredness within itself, 
Has folded it in neat pockets that have only slipped open at inopportune moments, 
Like a too-loud sigh, or an eye roll you weren't supposed to see, 
Because this body, that has been my proxy and protector for 30 plus years,
Has made it to the end of yet another strained week,
And is not able to compose itself for one more second,
Must simply crumple over on the sofa and rest. 

As always, your presence, your words, your sharing, mean a lot to me.xx

Prompt:

What is your relationship with your body? Write about it and share it with me (by sending it on instagram, or replying by email if you’re a subscriber) in the next week, and it will go up on the Instagram page.