Musings by The Poet Loriet
Baby Fat
You don't seem to notice
that my babies are
eight and ten.
When I put an arm
across my stomach
or turn the lights out,
strategically place
a blanket or hold
my abdominal muscles
just a little bit tighter,
you gently remove my defenses,
tell me I'm a "real woman"
with no reason to hide
my full-figured body.
You genuinely caress
my body, flaws and all--
every wrinkle and mole
and surgical scar and
other imperfection.
You ask me not to hide,
tell me with a genuine
reverence in your voice,
"There were babies
inside that belly,
and that's amazing.
You are beautiful
just the way you are.
You are real."
And so I've learned
to let myself feel
sensuous again,
because you accept me
and made me believe
when I saw myself
through your eyes.
I am beautiful
because of you.
Lori Beal
that my babies are
eight and ten.
When I put an arm
across my stomach
or turn the lights out,
strategically place
a blanket or hold
my abdominal muscles
just a little bit tighter,
you gently remove my defenses,
tell me I'm a "real woman"
with no reason to hide
my full-figured body.
You genuinely caress
my body, flaws and all--
every wrinkle and mole
and surgical scar and
other imperfection.
You ask me not to hide,
tell me with a genuine
reverence in your voice,
"There were babies
inside that belly,
and that's amazing.
You are beautiful
just the way you are.
You are real."
And so I've learned
to let myself feel
sensuous again,
because you accept me
and made me believe
when I saw myself
through your eyes.
I am beautiful
because of you.
Lori Beal
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Baby Fat
Baby Fat
