A Woman Now
I remember when I was in my thirties
when motivation was abundant and
my muscles were always tender from
the hard tearing in group ex Body Pump
class at the women’s gym. I watched
older women around me, judging their plump
bellies and soft arms, in awe of the stay-
the-sameness of their bodies. I didn’t
understand why after so much effort
their shapes were unrevised. I did everything
I could to make my body stronger, thinner
harder, but no matter what I did, what I saw
was despicable. A body imperfect.
I understand now, the power of hormones,
of the break in bond between body and mind
that usurps the female form, that edits on
its own terms, demands its own narrative,
creates its own structure that only prayer
placates, barely. I envision my body at 10, 20,
30 and I smile – what beauty! What strength!
And, finally, almost always, I can honour
her without wanting to be her. This breaking
is extraordinary. My body I understand is
a miracle desiring to live more miracles.
Imperfect is profound
as I find love in my
muscles. I am a
wolf at the back
of the pack,
howling like
a mad
woman.
Awooooooooooo!
VANESSA SHIELDS 