Wednesday, March 19, 2008

i can't eat the strawberry, i'll get fat

I’ve boxed myself into one of those mental corners with tigers above and below. No wait…am I dangling from an edge eating my last strawberry before the inevitable end? Perhaps I’m just growing out of my skin, shedding what I have grown out of.

My insecurities don’t work for me anymore. Here I am trying to find my beauty under all that ugly heaped on me from my past. There ain’t nothing like growing up in a misogynistic society, where the construct of a woman is in how she looks, even among us women folk we’re measuring acceptance on the sliding scale of pretty. Yeah, I never measured up. That’s okay though, I’m 5’11” and too tall to fit into those social norms. So, I spent my time creating my own norms. I suppose I can do that since I am always taller and become the biggest object around, I have used my own gravitational pull to attract those I want in my revolutions.

This GoGo can be friends with the prom queen and the punk rock chick solely because I want to these days. In that caveat of searching for acceptance, I realized we are all right there dangling, forced to appreciate our last fruit plucked before the end. If you know this, then suddenly social pomp and circumstance becomes irrelevant and you are not alone as women dangle all around. Damn, those tigers are getting a good meal.

Accept I’m still trying to find acceptance from women higher up on the ledge. Mental metaphor getting twisted here, I find myself wondering if a women falls will it feed the tiger’s appetite and save me? What an ugly thought not perpetuated by an ugly past, but my own need to be vanity’s best friend, I justify the thought like Whiteman Joe who thinks its just the way it goes, if I am stuck in this system I just want to be on top. And here I am morally incontinent while hanging off the ledge.

And my stomach turns from the thought. See, I can justify my insecurity from a really fucked up past, passing into my present because of something someone once said, “You are not meant to be loved.” I spent so much of my time trying to prove the contradiction, I got caught up in the same game I’ve never been able to win – acceptance on that sliding scale of pretty. Except, what does that say about security? Doesn’t sound right for me to invest my security on the same damn thing that got me stuck on the side of a cliff in the first place, does it.

So, how do I get down? I’m not prone to accept my slot in society letting go and diving head first into the gullet of a beast. And yet, waiting for all the other women to fall while I yank on the backs of others higher then me isn’t working either. Can I just be me, as is, rotating my life around my own sense of beauty and be fine? Can I convince all of us women to come together and build a ladder for all our safety? I do wish we could.

Or perhaps it’s as simple as twisting this twisted mental metaphor again and see my insecurities dangling, my integrity their last meal, my gift to them before they simply let go and get devoured…

Just a mad mess of a rough draft.

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