Flabby Arms Fly

I’d of loved myself so much sooner to see the artistic works of Medieval, Ancient rulers – an artists replication of curve before MTV. Real Queens, not a photoshopped hack job of Beyonce.

Today, the shit has hit the fan on bodily expectations for women.  Instagram is populated with obvious cropped waist-lines and butt implants and gym junkies and anti aging fruit from the center of the earth…. I’m not amused, and I do not find it admirable.

You can’t truly walk a life in vain, worried about the possibility of veins, can you?

I find it novel, a woman with lines, a life’s story behind each indentation.  A tired mom with a belly blossomed, carrying her weight full term.  A laboring bartender works long into the morning with eyes that sing a sad song – drives her own car home to a grade A daughter – can afford no make up to put on.  A matriarch of ten grows a garden – her hands stiff, scarred and arthritic – makes some heaven out of soup bowls -and keeps a fat family happily fed.

Real women who fight their days without fear – wave their flabby arms like wings – never letting their laugh lines miss the chance to crease – now that’s admirable.

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