staring and comparing
exact length and width
my whole life
or at least since I started
playing soccer at age seven
such judgement and importance
placed on the shape of sweet
pale skin peeking out from under
shorts, as we ran around soggy
Seattle fields like baby antelopes
while parents waited on sidelines
with orange smiles in their hands
mine were never thin enough
the popular girls' were perfect
symbol of all that type of girl
had that I never would
impossible to ever be skinny or
pretty enough to be truly good
had that I never would
impossible to ever be skinny or
pretty enough to be truly good
strange how they would seem
to appear larger or smaller depending
on what type of pants one wore
I didn’t wear jeans for years, tried ankle-length
dark skirts, as a teenager, to hide them
dark skirts, as a teenager, to hide them
longed for a diet that would work
even my burgeoning feminism couldn’t save me
then I made a friend in college whose different
fixation also came from her sport: the shape
of torsos from beach volleyball courts
of torsos from beach volleyball courts
tanned bodies supple as seals
in the golden California sun
in the golden California sun
this was a revelation to me! because
I never thought that not everyone
else was looking at, and mercilessly
judging the same female body part
and perhaps it didn't matter as much as
I thought, maybe it wasn't the entire measure
of my worth, perhaps there was another way to
be good, and break out of that routine body
I thought, maybe it wasn't the entire measure
of my worth, perhaps there was another way to
be good, and break out of that routine body
dysmorphia that we simply call American
"girlhood"
it's taken years but now, how I love them for their
strength & longevity, for they’ve carried me
across so many finish lines, they've
literally never let me down
and that turns out to be all I ever needed
from them, all they ever really meant
they’ve carried me, they've carried me,
with such love, they carry me still
