BardBliss: The Executioner

I altered the exposure on this to demonstrate
how poorly we so often see ourselves.

Listening to: Oh, a little something wonderful from Brazil!

Today's Bliss Formula: More writing in my new journal. Time for clipping back flowers as the idea of autumn starts growing in my mind.

A poem especially for this summer season, she says with a bit of acid.

The Executioner

They come en masse trudging
through the sand, dripping
with bags and children,
hats and questions flying
in the lake’s wind.
Or they come solo
and neat with one
chair, one book, one
diet coke.
They come and
stake out private
territory with blankets, chairs,
umbrellas, towels.
They anchor with shoes,
purses, books, coolers,
babies in car seats.

And finally,
they strip.
Unlike at home where windows
are sheathed in drapery
and blinds seal out
the peeping world.
Here, in front of lifeguards,
the lake, the sky, and the rest
of us, they peel
off layer after layer
down to basics normally concealed
and only revealed to spouses
and lovers.

I am no lover.
I sit and pick
them apart
piece by piece.
A fat stomach here,
sloppy breasts there.
Her butt is too big for that
French cut
and her arms are too floppy
for the racer back.
Who does she think she is
in that chartreuse bikini?
Doesn’t she know
that skirt hides
nothing?

I sit paralyzed in
my coverall.
I know
my
faults, I
want to yell.
They can’t cut me
apart.
I’ve bled myself
enough for all of them.
In the mirror,
in my mind’s eye,
I know how imperfect
I am.
I know enough to be
ashamed of the undressing,
to clasp my arms
tight to my sides, to hide
my extra-ness, my
too much.

I sit close
to the water’s edge
so my time
exposed is brief
and I drown
my ugliness in the cool,
soft,
forgiving
lake.

--christine c. reed

This poem was written years ago, and I would love to say that it was written when I was going through a phase with my body, but this "phase" started when I was so young, I can't remember never feeling this way.

Don't get me wrong -- I work very hard on this, but I'm sure a lot of you out there, reading, also work really hard on your body issues and feel like you still aren't getting very far with them.

I always call it my "last issue standing!"

And there's all sorts of "love yourself" advice but it sits right next to the culture that is screaming -- a lot louder -- you're fat! You're imperfect! Look at those thighs!

And the screaming voices are so often other women.

The next time you help a friend or a daughter or a sister with a diet, stop and think.

The next time you count calories in public, stop and think.

The next time you talk about having to lose five pounds, stop and think.

Who is hearing you? Someone else, yes, but also the little girl inside you.