Her (2009)

She was not a baby producing machine, but she bled
She was not typically feminine, but she had curves
a bagel, not a hole to be filled, unless she wanted it, badly.

a bundle of emotions wrapped in flesh, with a tendency towards empathy attacks
she owned her cellulite like you might own a stray dog – not really yours but it tags along anyway
so you might as well get used to it

Her feeling was, it was a fuckin pain in the ovaries sometimes
to be judged weak but feel strong
to be expected strong but feel weak
looked at like some sort of freak, the sideshow kind, or the beauty pageant
she felt more naked exposing her heart, than her flesh

And if the cliché goes, that at 20 a person has the face God gave them
and at 40 the face she has earned
then she was almost done
paying hers off in instalments
and by God she was happy about it!

She was all the labels of one person skating together
on the ice, thick or thin,
sometimes falling in
to the woman, bitch, warrior princess, teacher, grace, spitting snake, weeping wife
She compared herself to all the other lives again and again and again
not knowing when
to stop, and look

But hell, she was thighs, hips and ass
and all she knew was that her birthright had passed
on the light, and the might
to shake like this…