Naked, in fact it's hard, we face disability and decay in the body, and we find a language and frequency of communication with the body.
I have a dark brown birthmark on my left waist.
When I was a little girl, I cared too much.The birthmark is a two-cut swimsuit, and it's going to be very obvious."There's a piece of "dirty stuff" there.I always wrinkled my nose and I wasn't happy, and I remember my mom bent down and said, " Hey, this is a mark on you."
It turns out that this is the mark I have on me.A little girl has been unanswered by her body and has been softly unanswered, like a gift, and this belongs to me, and this is what I have.It turns out that this is my body, dirty, beautiful, beautiful, and that is all me.
I always feel that every woman has a moment of flashing light in her body.The part of the body that was once detested as a base of bittersly reprimandred, was accepted as a part of the blood, and your good and bad are all fought with you, and once again we face the uncommon sense of the community.(Sibling: Who is qualified to define a woman's beauty?)
The clean body we thought of doesn't exist
The orthonary of the social imagination is white. It is soft. It's clean. It's clean. It's a clean one. It's a single, and more often, it's not a desire.All of this was detested as an ineligible body.The details of obscure and kindling, such as the foot of the inner eight, the thick waist, the striped tattoo, and the mouth of the mouth, are all overshaded, covered, hidden, corrected, and not seen in the sky.
But the body was never clean, and the body was never pure.As a woman, we know it ourselves.
We still remember the first month of events, the ruddy of a pack of tampons being pushed to the toilet, "You go, you face that piece of blood," until we learned how to "take care of yourself" between the hands of the messy.
We still remember people who saw tattooing or caving in, and there are always people who mumble like an internal constraint: " The parents of the body who are in the skin are not willing to destroy the filial piety." We admire the cleanliness and simplicity of the body, as if the body was a uniform, it shouldn't be, and it wasn't allowed to be different.I am not sure whether this is a good intention or a malicious one.(Recommended reading: An Interview with the Young Girl Sailor of Girls )
I still remember talking to my mother, and when she talked about the menopause, " Overall, the amount of menstrual period is gradually smaller, and now it just needs to be used as a pad.Sometimes I feel really not used to it. It is simply not like a woman.When he was greeting the menstrual period of nearly half his life, his body declared that he would no longer be young, so as to become an old man.The body of a woman has never been separated from her identity. As a rain sound, the woman's menstrual cycle of menstruation, the belly of the tummy and the breast, I am not sure whether this is a blessing or a fate.
Our bodies are so beautiful and cold, and when people are looking for a chasm, they can only fade away from their death.Every body is the same.
I sometimes feel that people are so cruel to their bodies, bodily breathing, bleeding, pain, and sensuality cannot be detected, and have to be careful to hide them with caution.But why can the body not be contradictory, difficult, diverse, complex, and explosive?Reminked of the existence of a clean body, I remembered that the body was not young forever, and that it was an ugly and undisgusting body that was unable to cover up the body. But it was a certain kind of freedom to interact with the body.(Recommended reading: Who wants clean?puberty, forgotten sensory memory )
To Body-negative poems: Your smells, Impressions, Sells
One day the world will collapse with the theory and system of men, and she will survive and be rebuilt from the memory of his sense of smell and color, "
said in the flashpoint of the end of the century."
body is a map of the sense of smell and color memory, and it extends along the pulse of the times. By passing through the heavens of the heavens and the heavens, the body accumuls your way of smell, imprint, and appearance, and the path of pain and tenderness is given above the path.
We always want to be a "hug your body," but we've all spent so much effort to get goose bumps on my face, a mole on the chin, a small one, a bloated ankle, a waistline with a hand that's not in hand.I love my body, it's struggling, it itchy, because it was so unbearable and dirty; I love my body because it's fragile and stubborn; I love my body, and I bleed to sweat, and there's a living space and space.
You want to write a letter to your body and tell her, "Hey, you're not clean, it's not right, but you remember, we have the smell, the pattern, the way you are, your own imprint.""
We write to the body, and also write a negative poem in the world. Like the birthmark on my left waist, I said that he was like a cloud. Others could think that he was like a poo, but the presence of others did not necessarily determine my appearance, and there was no need to be accountable to anyone.And I'm proud of the smells and impressions that I have on all of me.
Tender for August: Bare, Most Beautiful Languages