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The
Sabbath Meal
I
Am Learning
The
Ice Cream Cone
The
Girdle, a Woman’s Best Friend
My
Own True Voice
Untitled
My Own True Voice
I
love my body
I hate
my body
They
cohabit my body
Once
upon a time
as
a baby, I loved my body
but
that was before
before
my mother’s voice
"No
more," I said, turning
my
head away in disgust.
But
she held my nose
so
I opened my mouth to breathe
and
she shoveled in
another
spoonful of food.
(healthy
babies were plump, you know,
not
like the sickly, dying ones
she’d
seen in Europe).
So
I left my body, the body I loved,
since
it was no longer mine to decide,
and
I lost my own true voice.
Once
upon a time I loved my body,
but
that was before-
before
toilet training,
another
torture.
If
I used my diaper
I was
hit.
I quickly
learned
to
force my immature muscles
with
heroic effort
to
hold it in
until
it was okay
according
to the world
to
release them.
So
I left my body, the body I loved,
since
it was no longer my decision,
and
I lost my own true voice
Once
upon a time, I loved my body,
but
that was before-
before
I learned that
women
were "less than"
were
only good for having babies,
had
no real rights, only feigned ones,
before
my mother said
not
to become a doctor
because
then how would I
be
able to have a husband
and
children?
before
abortions were legal,
before
women were expected
to
become only teachers or nurses,
before
I was allowed to wear pants
to
school or to work,
before
I couldn’t get a car loan
as
a single woman unless I had
a husband,
before
my Iranian-American
gynecologist
refused to do my
hysterectomy
unless my ex-husband
signed
the consent form.
(and
he had had a vasectomy
without
telling me until after it was done)
I fought
this time,
but
lost a part of
my
body, the body I loved,
since
it was no longer my decision,
and
I lost a part of my own true voice,
although
now I knew that I had one.
Once
upon a time, I loved my body,
but
that was before—
before
my young husband
called
me a "fat pig" when I
gained
10 pounds after our
summer
in Europe;
before
years spent with starving
my
body and regaining the weight,
before
weightwatchers-richardsimmons-
janefonda-feel-the-burn-dietcenter-dietworkshop-
macrobiotics-naturalfoods-tofuburgers-dratkins-
jennycraig-dietpills-grapefruitdiet-liquiddiet
(which
cost me my gall bladder) and lots of others.
before
overeatersanonymous-and-years-of-therapy
for-an-eating-disorder.
I fought
harder this time and struggled to learn
how
to listen to my own true voice.
Once
upon a time I loved my body,
but
that was before—
before
I learned that menstruation
was
called "The Curse"
and
my husband called it
"being
on the rag"
before
I knew that breasts
could
be the "wrong size"
and
I saw women all about
desperate
to lose weight
and
criticizing one’s body
was
considered natural.
before
the onslaught
of
advertisements
that
fed off women’s insecurities,
before
the unstoppable greed
of
the corporate world,
the
patriarchal control
that
tightened like a vise;
before
even young men
and
adolescent boys
were
trained to laugh
at
fat women and to mistreat them.
But
now I am fighting mad
and
know how to hear
my
own true voice.
And
now, I join in the chorus
of
women everywhere
who
have valiantly fought
off
this epidemic,
I have
learned to howl at the moon
and
honor the monthly
cycle
of women’s lives;
I have
come to know the
secrets
of birth as I rebirth
myself
each day, and help
others
give birth to parts
of
themselves;
I have
learned to love
the
creative juices that
flow
in this woman’s
body
and spirit;
to
write, paint, make music,
bathe
this body in beauty,
colors
and sounds of
celebration
and joy
or
grief and sadness;
I have
learned to cherish
the
secret powers of my
womanhood,
the strengths
and
burnished beauty
that
is mine as I grow
older
into wisdom;
I have
learned to celebrate
the
onset of menstruation
and
have a party;
(now
I call it "rag-time"
and
I do a dance).
I have
learned to cherish
all
that is womanness, womankind,
womenfriends,
women who continue
to
struggle, and women everywhere.
and
I reclaim my body;
I know
it is mine,
and
it is beautiful and
just
right.
Love
and hate still cohabit
this
body,
but
love is winning,
and
I can hear
my
own true voice.
•
Rosette, 54 •