My friend admires
her daughters' lithe bodies
while cursing her own,
all hip, belly, & thigh.
She remembers too well
how she once looked like them,
more twig than trunk.
Though there is grief when I behold
my daughter's burgeoning shape,
knowing I had nothing to do
with its creation,
I also feel relief.
It is not that I think her perfect,
where I am not.
I know acne will scar her.
Lack of symmetry will follow her.
Body hatred is female legacy
not even pure motherlove
can fully displace.
It is just so much easier
to love her flaws over my own.
Karen G. Johnston
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