This Body

I  had  to  clean  my  mirror  off…
To  get  a  better  view.
The  mist  had  blurred  the  curvature,
Of  parts  I  had  accrued.

I  did  not  want  to  see  my  skin,
Distressed  and  some  parts  resting.
My  belly  turned  into  a  home,
For  the  fragile  egg  in  nesting.

A  source  of  meal  for  human  life,
Enamored  by  the  thought.
Cup  sizes  bigger,
Shirts  too  small,
A  thought  constantly  fought.

My  arms  and  legs  were  never  long,
And  that  was  fine  to  me,
But  pain  came  through,
When  my  skin  grew,
Rather……conspicuously.

Finding  beauty in  your  form,
Is  often  interrupted,
societal  feminine
attributed  to “thin”,
a  stereotype  encrusted.

I had  to  really  take  a  look
And  study  this  hour  in  the  glass,
Dent  by  dent,
Stretch  by  stretch,
A  brand  new  anatomy  class.

My  thighs  aren’t  gaped…
My  breasts  aren’t  lifted,
This  is  no  parody.
I  am  as  real  as  any  woman,
Appreciating…..
This  body.

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