The body beautiful. Just the words evoke such a range of responses. What is, what isn’t, who is, who isn’t, the best, the worst … All really so subjective. That’s why I love this song ..
She could be sweet 16, bustin’ out at the seams
It’s still love in the first degree ….
The anorexic chicks, the model 6
They don’t hold no weight with me
Well 8 or 9, well that’s just fine
But I like to hold something I can see
Of course, it helps that I am definitely no size 6 and struggle to get back to a 14 most days, but am also fairly middle of the road, average, in weight and looks. But I am still really aware of size, despite trying my utmost to not pass on my feelings and paranoias to anyone else, especially my daughter. I’ve talked about body image with almost everyone I know at some stage, whether about a new diet, a comment on someone passing, a revelation, an admission or an apology. Man or woman, old or young, there are very few people I know who don’t have a preference for appearance. Some are open about what they like, others will say they are not concerned about the outside “it’s what’s inside that counts”, but when push comes to shove and you’re on a dance floor or in a pub with someone standing in front of you asking you to dance or go out, you can’t tell me that there isn’t a little part of you that assesses appearance? Surely?
Maybe you do but put that aside to get to know the real person first. Well, good for you. I can’t. I have no doubt this has made me miss out on some experiences but I’ve accepted over time that I am hot-wired to like a certain type. One has to know one’s limitations (despite yearning for just one more close-up look at a washboard stomach!) but I’ll always go for what I deem to be a general ok-ish type.
I am fascinated by the differences that the human body is capable of generating. Just think of it – two eyes, one nose, one mouth – and it can be put together in literally millions of ways, Identical just isn’t a word in the language of looks. One of my musings involves the possibility of a ‘twin’ somewhere in the world. I simply can’t believe that there are just so many variations. And the fantasy goes further. If there is someone just like me, how different would their life be? Would just the face be the same? Would she (he??) too have aches and pains and cheeks that slip in the night?
Would she have someone who loves her unconditionally?
‘Cause we love our love,
in different sizes
I love her body, especially the lies
Time takes it’s toll, but not on the eyes
Promise me this, take me tonight
And then again ... 