Who is that man staring at me from the other side of the mirror?
He looks familiar
Could that be the young, bearded pot-smoking anti-war protester
With hair to his shoulders
Waiting for the Dead
I seem to remember a man in a tuxedo on his wedding day
I seem to remember a man in a suit and tie on his way to the office
I seem to remember a man with smooth skin, good haircut, bright eyes
Where is that man?
All I see is an old geezer, wrinkled, near-sighted
He needs a shave
I look closer and find character in those laugh lines
Wisdom in the crow's feet
Joy in the smile
I see that his teeth are real
I see that his hair is gray
Who is he?
He looks familiar
Was that him at yet another anti-war protest
Was that him smoking pot in the park
I'm sure I've seen him somewhere recently
Waiting for the living
I look closer and notice those bright eyes and it dawns on me
If the eyes are the window to the soul
The mirror is the window to the eyes
Dude! Put on your glasses!
Erato calls

-- Robin O'Donnell, Berkeley, Calif.

Song of Belief

i'm no supermodel
or anorexic tween dream -
my thighs jiggle
my butt cheeks wiggle
and my metabolism
seems to have stalled
at the tender age
of twenty-five.

my mom thinks i'm fat
like that's all there is
but i look in the mirror
and see a woman with
power, grace
a sweet little asian face
and normal-to-oily skin
(wish i didn't have that).

i may not fit
into size 2 juicy couture
but i'm happy to be alive
happy to be loved
happy to be me.

now pass the hot wings.

-- Ria del Rosario

Ankle ink, indelible.
Ankle ink, unintelligible.
Not with my body born, folly of 18, you are but one of many "flaws."
But not like those that unfold over time - not ice-creamed thighs, not keloided chest;
But not like those of unmitigated genes - not baby-thin hair, not waistlessness.
No.
I made you, My dear mistake, My immediate regret, My tear-choked "yes," when asked by the needleman, "Is this how you wanted it to look?"
My specific intention. My sweet sentiment. My diminutive voice.
My malformed result.
Twelve years we've spent together. Together, we enact a lifetime of lessons:
...moderate impulse
...assert myself in pleasure AND displeasure
...laugh, and appreciate that it could have been worse (gasp, sorority letters; gasp, trend devoid of meaning, gasp; a cheating lover's name!)
No, my flaw is unique in a world of sameness.
Laser surgery, I won't do it.

-- Sarah Raskin, Atlanta, Ga.

She was wrong.
Not right.
Short hair does not
de-emphasize
my balding head.
I am right.
Not wrong.
Only more hair will
de-emphasize
my balding head.

-- Jason Kren

Thigh-ku

Shrink-defying thighs
A lifetime of "Just Do It"--
Done -- just lipo it

-- FD Rattray

Oh me oh my
no matter how hard I try
the pounds increase each year
the body I held so dear, disappears.

No babies for a reason
No unhealthy diet for a why.
as the passing of each season
I begin to wonder and cry.

What more can I do?
What less can I eat?
How many more crunches and lunges do I dare,
before I eventually quit in despair.

Enough I say, enough of this.
I'm happy with myself, I'm happy with my tits,
and my belly, thighs and butt.
Just do it! I agree.

-- Lisa V., Vienna, Austria

Riddle

I am wasp-waisted but do not sting.
I am an hourglass but time confounds me.

Size ten, fourteen, forty-two, all and none:
I am the length of my shadow,
the width of my footsteps.
I have no map or manual.
I am a floating world of my own make,
a collection of parts like a machine:
cog, wheel, eye, ear.
What am I?
Who am I?

Jessica Langer, London, U.K.

My breasts are frickin'
huge. The rest of me? Just the
right amount of curves.

But those horrific,
mammoth double-D's! Spilling
from my shirts, it seems;

No matter what I
wear. I hate my boobs, but here's
some consolation:

Some women pay big
money to look like this, and
I got mine for free.

-- M.D. Long, Cambridge, Mass.

As a girl,
I believed my butt 2 b
My most gi-nor-mous detriment.
Although males, young and old,
Complimented me with their eyes,
Or pursed their lips and whistled
Appreciation
I looked to magazines, billboards, movies, t.v.
For affirmation
Butt my West African heritage
Couldn't get no satisfaction.
Years later,
Nike runs up behind
Yelling for me to
Take them booty-licious jeans
From their back-of-the-closet gulag
Then whispers, "So what if you gotta shimmy into 'em?
Just do it"

-- NSW

I love my body, but I hate my clothes.
The waistbands are too tight, the collars pinch;
And I can't stand these awful pantyhose.

My body is just fine - it grows and grows,
My waist increases inch by glorious inch;
I love my body, but I hate my clothes.

I wish I did not have to think of clothes --
No zippers, buttons, and no belts to cinch -
And most of all, no more damn pantyhose;

I'd walk around all nude from head to toes
And revel in my fat while others flinch --
But no, I have to wear these horrid clothes.

Why cover up what's pretty as a rose
With itchy fabrics that compress and pinch?
I love my body, but I hate my clothes -- Especially these stupid pantyhose.

-- Larisa Migachyov

I miss my chin.
I used to have one but now a wattle has swallowed it.
If I scrunch my head back into it a bit,
I can do a pretty fair imitation of Henry the Eighth.
"Off with her head!"
Just do it!

-- Donna Lively

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