Saturday, March 7, 2009

amanda palmer makes me feel sexy.

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(god i guess i should change the name of this to "blogging about amanda palmer in odd segues to my personal life. but really.)

first, a poem describing how i felt last week (i wrote it then):

this is a quiet acknowledgement
of running a hand over skin to see if it is soft
and over a body to see if it is full
and of measuring the size but more importantly the consistency of breasts
and of taking close-ups at odd angles to trick the camera
into believing someone is beautiful

this is a quiet breaking of an unwritten rule
to keep things silent that should not have to be silent
to put on paper the things that happen behind closed curtain,
under insulating cover. to hide the moments of just trying
to convince oneself of those words oft-touted by the overconfident,
who are really just trying to convince themselves too:

'i'm happy with my body'

because like hell you are but at least you try
in the shower when you have to be naked and you can't help but wonder
when someone else one day sees all of you like that,
if they'll feel like you do about it or if that was just all
in your head

this is a quiet confession
of putting on makeup that cakes and peels away layers of honesty
of spending time pushing-up shaving-off and hiding
and of looking in the mirror naked trying to convince something inside you
that that is something beautiful in front of you and maybe you can love it

it's a hard thing to love,
with all the little things like
a birthmark on your shoulder and
a dark spot from when you were little that will never go away
and the hair you don't feel like scraping off with an angry blade
or the hair 'down there' you don't like to think of

and it's on the quizzes and questions everywhere
not just in the counselors' offices and the self-esteem tests
but in the ads that say BUY THIS and WEAR THESE that are really
testing you asking you that question you hate

'are you happy with your body?'

and you never know which bubble to fill in

you are lacking something that you futile-ly search for in the mall where what they tell you is here we will put on some makeup samples tell us what you like
and here go in the fitting room tell us what you like and look a fortune teller to tell you this is why your future will be dismal

but it will not be found in these faces only in the deepest roots of you

this is a quiet confession that i cannot seem to get out right
it is a quiet telling of times when i have felt perhaps ashamed, embarrassed
though with an audience of just myself
and of feeling a need to expel thoughts of what i have done
which is only just to want to be able to love myself in truth:

but the mirror seems stained with my nakedness and my scrutiny
i want to hide from myself
want to be someone else

(and why do you not shave your armpits
is it because you fancy yourself a rebel

no it is because i like being a mammal)

and now some perspective, i guess.

inspired by amanda palmer, i decided to make a video of myself singing her song "oasis." to accomplish this, i decided i wanted to make my face v. v. silly with makeup. i took my mom's bright red lipstick, put that on, then put it on my cheeks, too, and put a ton of different colors of eyeshadow. after the video, i took pictures of myself, danced around and sang, and lifted my arms up high even though they are hairy underneath. it made me feel so happy, and pretty and sexy and beautiful which i have NOT EVER FELT.

so here's to self-image.

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