my body, my wonderland
there is something therapeutic about physically grooming yourself. i imagine this akin to the benefits of gardening. the pruning is never complete, new weeds grow while you are plucking out old weeds, flowers fall to the ground as new seeds are being planted, a part of your white fence is browned and greyed by dust and rain as you touch up paint on some other parts.
i never really bothered about such things before, because i was vain about being vain perhaps? and also because i felt better use could be made of our limited time in this meagre existence. but as i grew older, as i am growing older,
as i grow older,
i start to take notice of my body more. what are these eyes that make up my vision? and look at these nails that cover the flesh on the tips of my fingers. oh, what is this blue black doing there? and the nail that fell off two months ago, it's growing, it's growing! and the little hairs on my skin, how they too grow (the weeds of my physical existence), i use my nifty lawnmover to eliminate them. and there they are, growing again. these lips, the softness and smoothness of them as they receive the conditioning they need from hydration. the cracked desert floors they resemble as they are abandoned to thirst. the war between fats and muscles and cellulite, the waist that expands or contracts depending on how much waste i welcome or expel.
my body is so alive, so strong and resilient, self-replenishing, self-regenerating. but yet, so fragile and sensitive to change. the pain in my left, second toe, did i injure a nerve while unknowingly kicking it into a...i wouldn't know, i was unknowing at the time. dark rings under my eyes, where the skin is so thin, because i spend hours staring at the computer or sleeping too little or dreaming with my eyes closed for too long. the tattoo on my right inner wrist that has become part of this body, how my body accommodates this change and the butterfly becomes a part of me.
i begin to enjoy this process of (rather tedious and never-ending) grooming, for now at least, for different reasons for sure. not so much because i desire to be desired, which i do of course (don't you?). but more so because, it allows me to take time to appreciate the details of my body, my gift. and the process of transforming, is somewhat liberating. as colour gets splashed on nails adding excitement to footsteps, as hair (weeds) get pulled off from their roots revealing the ebony of my skin, as hair (tendrils) gets combed or clipped into place, falling where they will, curling where they must, this body, my canvas, becomes my masterpiece, over and over again. what a strange and wonderful revelation.
i thank God for this body, his original masterpiece, and i make a little pact with Him to take better care of it simply because, it is His gift to me, and a very awesome one at that.
there is something therapeutic about physically grooming yourself. i imagine this akin to the benefits of gardening. the pruning is never complete, new weeds grow while you are plucking out old weeds, flowers fall to the ground as new seeds are being planted, a part of your white fence is browned and greyed by dust and rain as you touch up paint on some other parts.
i never really bothered about such things before, because i was vain about being vain perhaps? and also because i felt better use could be made of our limited time in this meagre existence. but as i grew older, as i am growing older,
as i grow older,
i start to take notice of my body more. what are these eyes that make up my vision? and look at these nails that cover the flesh on the tips of my fingers. oh, what is this blue black doing there? and the nail that fell off two months ago, it's growing, it's growing! and the little hairs on my skin, how they too grow (the weeds of my physical existence), i use my nifty lawnmover to eliminate them. and there they are, growing again. these lips, the softness and smoothness of them as they receive the conditioning they need from hydration. the cracked desert floors they resemble as they are abandoned to thirst. the war between fats and muscles and cellulite, the waist that expands or contracts depending on how much waste i welcome or expel.
my body is so alive, so strong and resilient, self-replenishing, self-regenerating. but yet, so fragile and sensitive to change. the pain in my left, second toe, did i injure a nerve while unknowingly kicking it into a...i wouldn't know, i was unknowing at the time. dark rings under my eyes, where the skin is so thin, because i spend hours staring at the computer or sleeping too little or dreaming with my eyes closed for too long. the tattoo on my right inner wrist that has become part of this body, how my body accommodates this change and the butterfly becomes a part of me.
i begin to enjoy this process of (rather tedious and never-ending) grooming, for now at least, for different reasons for sure. not so much because i desire to be desired, which i do of course (don't you?). but more so because, it allows me to take time to appreciate the details of my body, my gift. and the process of transforming, is somewhat liberating. as colour gets splashed on nails adding excitement to footsteps, as hair (weeds) get pulled off from their roots revealing the ebony of my skin, as hair (tendrils) gets combed or clipped into place, falling where they will, curling where they must, this body, my canvas, becomes my masterpiece, over and over again. what a strange and wonderful revelation.
i thank God for this body, his original masterpiece, and i make a little pact with Him to take better care of it simply because, it is His gift to me, and a very awesome one at that.
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