When I see the old artwork
of those naked women
voluptuous pears are they not?
full of juice and rounded edges
they offer nothing but rounded curves
directionless we would say
headed toward a river of social suicide
where the mirror is faded and grey
low fat, sugar free, diet diet diet
drop 10, size 2, be friends with me?
fat, obese, scales, lose, gain, stop?
loud noises, in the shower, quiet quiet quiet
Wide hips, loose tummy, streaked thighs, from childbearing
proud gazes, broad shoulders, firm lips to influence you
unbreakable fingers, warm laps, strong arms to hold you
as you cry in my arms for your God given tree trunk legs
and crooked nose and those 20,000 dollars
reflecting the shocking light in surgery,
the shiny magazine subscriptions,
the artificial taste of 0 calories
fake fake fake
please do not eat that cake
or you may look like that artwork hanging over me
a clear cut, divine design of what
a women’s body is supposed to be
It’s okay to take a break.
It’s okay to not work out for a day, or two, or three, a week.
It’s okay to treat yourself. It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to need to relax.
It is okay to care for yourself. You are more than simply some squats, some weights, or some cardio. It is not okay to obsess or to beat yourself up over what you did or didn’t do. You are human, and it is okay to need a break.
To live another life. Pick two words and you have a whole new story. A whole new path. To be stuck and lonely. Rich and depressed. Confused and happy. Depressed and hurting. Lonely and peaceful. Poor and free. Satisfied and anxious. Nervous and confused. Scared and Rich. Peaceful and Apprehensive.
The scary thing is, you can be one thing and wake up the next day and be something else. Circumstances are the paintbrush and we are the white paper at the mercy of the paint. The feelings. The spins in our head. The beat of our heart as we look out the glossy window and determine if we are Rich, Poor, Happy, Depressed, Stuck, Lonely, Nervous, Anxious, Apprehensive, Confused, Scared, Peaceful, Satisfied, and Free. The colors mix, drip, fade, but if we allow it enough time, paint always dries. So we must decide, if we’re going to let the paint dry.
Next time we judge someone, we must realize, we can’t see them. The picture. The tossing of the sheets and the daily clenched fists on the way to work. The cabinet of medications and old scrapbooks they keep on a dusty shelf. We only see their camping trip pictures on Facebook and their new dress they bought on sale or the laugh they force to let out a breath of air, before they suffocate in their paint. But those pictures don’t count. Facebook is just a fake universe. You can get sick off of smelling paint.
So we become aware of the paint. Dripping like blood one minute, dry as a desert the next day. Some call it empathy. Yet, it is common sense, to recognize the blank canvas that we are and the complexity behind erasing, painting over, recreating, and redefining ourselves. So I chose not to hate. Because there is no color. Black is mystery. White is innocence. Grey is bleak. Brown is Earth. Hate is nothing. Don’t be nothing. Don’t allow nothing to drive you. Don’t dwell in nothing. You will only come out absolutely alone. With no one and nothing. Not even a canvas.
About to register for a marathon……………………great.