Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I walk naked through the house. The light is on. The door is open. It is the perfect temperature. There is the brush of the velour lounge against my back. There is an honesty in this nakedness. Yes, someone could look in and they would see the outline of a body that was never beautiful, but once, at least, my breasts were firmer than they are today. Once my skin was sallow and firm as if it had been rubbed with olive oil. Once there was less sag and droop than there is now. I walk in my nakedness and it is quite a challenge to realise that it will not get better than this. I can relax into my odd shape and my spiky combativeness. My body is a raised finger, an insult or a challenge. Look at me. I dare you all to look at me. As I settle into the wonderful furriness of the couch and feel the breeze on my skin. My body, just for my own pleasure. My body for me.