Hello everyone
I'm going to blog twice in one day. Mainly because I found that poem and felt compelled to share it, and also because a theme has come to light and i thought I'd write about... bodies. what exactly IS it that makes us love or hate a part of our bodies? where does that huge gap between the way we see ourselves and how other people see us come from?
Maybe I am a strange sort of 23 year old woman, but I rarely think about my body at all. I rarely even wonder what I'm going to wear unless someone somewhere has made a 'big deal' about it. I think about what I should wear to work for about 30 seconds and then I just grab what's clean/wasn't worn the day before. I might think about it for a bit longer if it's a party or a special occassion, but in front of the mirror is not my favourite place to hang out.
I hardly ever consider my physical-self. Now and again i remember the little things I absolutely hate about my toes, for example, or how I have one eye ever so slightly bigger than the other, but I've never been known to lose any sleep over it. The way I see it, we're sort of stuck with our bodies, unless we have enough money stashed away to modify aspects for purely cosmetic reasons.
This weekend has had quite a physical feel to it. I went to see a play yesterday with an old friend which had quite a bit of nudity in it. not bad for a saturday matinee, glass of red wine in one hand, watching some naked bloke reading out a soliloquy ;-)
the night before, a friend had made some comments which forced me into actually thinking about my body for the first time in nearly a year, and as i watched this naked bloke prancing around it made me realise that a person's body is actually entirely empty and devoid of anything unless you know them, even care about them. i thought the guy on stage was quite attractive, but there was nothing more to it than that.
the body is really just a shell, but perhaps we can't just rely on the phrase 'it's what's inside that counts'. The inside has a massive impact on the outside, but i wonder how often what's felt inside matches what's really seen outside?
In that respect, I don't think I match.
