Sometimes I Feel...

...as if I were trapped in a world of prefab everything. Were told how to look, how to act, how to be and how really NOT to be. What it all says to me is "You are never good enough... you will always be flawed."

Ever since I was a small girl I was told how "pretty" I was and I wondered even then what that meant. I knew at times it meant I could bat my lashes and get away with things my brothers couldnt. I became a young lady and developed fast. I learned that a tiny waist and huge breasts can carry a girl purdy darned far if she didnt really care where it was she was going or how she got there. When I was a young woman of 18 I was married. I learned bargains could be made between a hubby and a wife for alllll kinds of things *wink* and that theres just simply a power in being a woman; sometimes.

We don't have much media in our home. We try not to buy into commercialism too much but then ... well what can I say I think as a woman there's a pressure. I don't know if there is for a man. I never have heard one ask if his ass looked fat in his jeans, but I myself have been reduced to tears by my less perky chest line. Who am I crying for? Me? Or am I upset I cant live up to what I think I am supposed to be? Am I afraid my hubby will be less than thrilled at the thought of touching my too squishy thighs and derriere? Would I even notice it if I weren't told that it SHOULD be different? Or would I think my breasts were fine for all of the children they have nursed and would I celebrate my stretch marked tummy for all the life it has created? What would I think if no one told me HOW to think? What would my hubby think if society didn't dictate a Barbie wife in every home? Question after question... never to be answered.

I wrote this poem a while back, it seems to suit my mood as of late as if its my mantra I would love to scream to the world.


BLOOMING WOMAN

If I were a flower would you let me truly open?
Would you drink in the scent of my petals full?
Would you bask in the beauty that is woman
wholly without reservation,
without judgment,
without condemning it
to preset functions and precut form.
Would you appreciate the colors of my being
without having me to capture,
just content to live within its rapture.
Could you let me grow by rivers bank wild
or would you dare to pick my spirit clean
and set me amongst the windows of your caged ego
left to be an accent to you, in your need for ornamentation.
Can you leave behind your want and ever present desire
to acquire that which you truly cannot have?
You are man; a rock strong and true and yet
how much stronger am I, the flower, than you?
For I am woman, the sacred vessel
in whom all life grows.
I alone hold life’s best kept secrets
The ones that only Mother Earth knows.
~HoneyB~