A Self Portrait

Five foot and three inches now, I used to stand five feet and five inches…old age shrinks the body you know. My eyes have turned blue with time, unless I’m really angry, then they blaze with vibrant green that reaches out to strike at my oppressors. Olive skin that brown easily with the kiss of the sun and medium, mousy brown hair that I chemically alter on a regular basis.

            Inside my spirit is young and full of vitality. Outside though, excess pounds round my figure. I love myself despite the extra flesh or maybe even because of it. I have grandma arms with soft flesh that hangs from my upper arms, why do grandbabies love to play with that? I don’t know the answer. My chest is full and plenty cushioned for a tired head to lie upon and receive comfort, love, and surcease from life itself.

            Sometimes I think that my body thrives on stress. If so, I am at the top of the game. I am an easy touch, soft heart that invariably leads me to pain. Yet, if you anger me, I am a total bitch that can shroud my heart in ice for self-preservation. I hate that part of me but it is deeply ingrained within my DNA.

            Nurturer by nature, I seem to attract lonely souls that beg for mothering. I find myself wondering who will nurture me, and then I turn around and forget myself once again to minister to any who knock at my hearts door asking for love and relief.

            I have scars that are visible to the naked eye; they do not bother me because they are a part of who I am. Left shoulder, a six inch scar to repair an injury. I lost some rotation because I was pregnant and had to drop all meds and rehabilitation, I had already lost one baby so they were taking no chances this time. A healthy baby girl, my last child, who is now 23 years old. There is the twelve inch scar across the right side of my abdomen, it runs all the way down to my waist, it came from gall bladder removal on my sons second birthday. Because of it, my abdomen will never be taut or tight…I don’t mind that either. For my hysterectomy the scar is about five or six inches, they did a bikini cut on me, imagine that! This body has       NEVER been built for one of those! I also have a four inch appendectomy scar from when I was seventeen years old. Both knees bear eight inch twin scars where titanium and plastic replaced bone and cartilage. Now I can walk once again so those scars don’t bother me either, in fact, I am rather proud of them.

I have pretty hands and wear a size 7 ring, don’t how that happened when the rest of my body is so plump. I also think I have a pretty face, even with the wrinkles that the experience of life has blessed me with (I happen to like them too). I think my eyes stand out, my momma always called them mood eyes. They seem to change colors with my moods….very clear blue when I am sick, green with anger or frustration, and green with blues rings around the outside when happiness overwhelms my soul. The eyes never lie you know.
            I don’t know if you can see me in your minds eye now but I certainly hope the visual is there. This is me…raw and uncut, the whole story, a self-portrait in ink.

    T