Wings
It's ok to feel blah about your own body
I'm really sorry that you make me so Uncomfortable By you, I mean me I'm sorry that I make myself so Uncomfortable I'm not ok with the present moment I want something different I understand that I am creating my own Suffering My belly feels so big My chin is doubling My hair is turning whiter Remember cottage cheese thighs from the 80s? I can't un-remember Because they are mine. My breasts are sagging My arms are flapping My butt is mush This is just the outside. On the inside there's The constant acid reflux The persistent allergies The on-going headache from Every wayward scent and shift in weather The dietary restrictions The plantar fasciitis The contacts that won't stay in The bruises from poorly navigating The living room furniture. I'm sorry I'm such a downer About my forty-something body. I feel my forehead wrinkling And my shoulders drooping I feel bad for feeling bad for thinking So badly about my body. Maybe cookies will help Or chocolate Or coffee Or tea Or wine Or none of these. I'm sorry you're so Uncomfortable. I wrap my own wings Around myself
