I don’t know how to describe the feeling I have when I look in to the mirror at bedtime. My eyes tear up sometimes and the words in my head are “I’m sorry.”
Who am I apologizing too? K. I want to bring a perfect body to bed. Barring that, I’d like at least a decent one, with all the usual working parts.
I stand naked in the bathroom after my shower, or before brushing my teeth. Dripping or dry I look the same. Lopsided and scarred. Not pretty. Not sexy. Not right.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t want to feel this way, apologetic. I don’t want to have these words in my head. I don’t want to come to bed with tears in my eyes. I want to give my lover the best of everything I’ve got. If I haven’t got two perfect breasts to bring, then I’d like to bring the funny looking one I’ve got and let her call it perfect, like she does. And I’d like to let her call my scarred, misshapen, flabby chest flesh on the other side perfect, like she does. I’d like to watch that word, “perfect,” hop from her mouth onto my skin and let it be true. I’d like to have the confidence and boldness of a woman in an intact body. I’d like to be bright and beam. Shameless.
I manage it sometimes. I can put out the light, or put on a shirt, and my apologies fall away into the fabric, into the night. K calls me the most beautiful woman in the world and whether or not it’s so, I feel like all the good things that blessing would bring are true for me with her.
But sometimes cotton isn’t enough, and neither is silk. I’m broken and partly missing. Even the total shroud of a moonless midnight sky painted deep with star-dampening clouds doesn’t make a strong enough shield. I can’t hide from my lessoned, lessened self. What have I learned? What have I lost? I crumble and cry.
Poor K. It must be bad enough to have a lover whose body lost a battle to win a war. Why should she have to deal with my trembling needy heart as well?
If I'd had reconstructive surgery, would it take all these feelings away?
If I'd had reconstructive surgery, would I be all healed up by now?
If I'd had reconstructive surgery, would I believe her when she says I'm the most beautiful woman in the world?
Maybe.
Maybe I should just go ahead and believe her now.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
One thing: Awesome word work! Crafted, breathtaking. Made me tear up.
Second thing: millions of women feel this way and they still have all their 'parts!'
Mage, your honesty and vulnerability in sharing your feelings is so refreshing! I have said those words to myself, too: "I'm sorry." We don't need to apologize for what we did not cause. But we can be thankful for everything else we have - love of family, friends; the gorgeous mountains to look at and enjoy; books to read; bikes to ride; and adventures to enjoy!!!
Post a Comment