Coming on warm here in North Florida today. I spent most of my day behind the wheel of my car which was odd. I went in this morning to go sign tax papers with my husband and then take him to get his rental car for his trip down south for business. But then another tax-signing-situation came up and I had to get dressed again and go back to town but I have been in such a good mood that it hasn't bothered me. I was content to just drive and go and enjoy the scenery as I went.
After the second signing, I was near TJ Maxx and went in to look at bathing suits. We are leaving for Cozumel a month from today.
Let me ask you a question- why must women's bathing suits be either bikinis or something like whalebone and fiberglass encased in hideous, shiny lycra?
Padded, boney bras.
Please. There is no Miracle Suit which is going to make me look as if I should, in fact, be wearing one of the bikinis. Why in the world would I want to wear a bra and girdle to go swimming in, to go snorkeling? I wish I had the guts and gall to just wear one of the bikinis, let the world see my stretch marks, my stretched-out belly where my four babies nested all those months. The only time in my life I have ever felt comfortable in a bikini was, truthfully, when I was pregnant. Gloriously and fully pregnant, my full-moon belly brown and a force of life. I felt no shame at all about my stomach then and why should I now?
I don't know but of course, being a woman in the year 2014 in the country of the United States, I somehow do. Not really shame, but I seem to have the idea that the eyes of the innocent need to be protected from what a fifty-nine year-old female body looks like. How very bizarre we are about our bodies and I so wish we weren't. I am not, at the moment, extremely unhappy about my body. I can see muscles in it, beneath the skin which time and gravity have had their way with. There is strength here, bands of it underneath the less than firm flesh. Muscles built and kept through walking and yard work and the picking up of grandchildren, the hoisting of them onto my hip. No, I do not look like Madonna nor do I want to.
I look like me and dammit, I refuse to force myself into one of those lycra suits of armor.
Lycra suits of horror, to be even more specific.
I left the bathing suits on their hangers and went to Lowe's and bought dirt in a bag and caladiums to plant in the hollow log where Buddha sits. I had thought to just buy impatiens as I usually do to put in that log but the caladiums called to me instead and so I bought those. I bought a few impatiens too, just white ones, and a small jade plant because my own magnificent jade plant died years ago and I miss it. I brought all of this home and planted the caladiums and then the white impatiens around the bird bath. I repotted the jade plant and I watered the porch plants and I was delighted to see that several of the plants which had looked dead after the winter's freezes are coming back although I am losing hope for my splendid and huge bird's nest fern which was the crowning glory of the porch. I am not tossing it yet. I am a woman of deep optimism and patience when it comes to certain things like porch plants while at the same time remaining darkly pessimistic when it comes to things like the fate of the human race.
Well. Whatever. While I am here I am going to do my best to create and nurture as much life as I can. My belly is testament to that, as is my porch. I use up fossil fuels like there was no tomorrow just as most of us do, no matter what our intentions are and today I listened to a doctor/scientist on Fresh Air talk about our microbiomes and how our over-use and misuse of antibiotics and the trend towards Caesarian births is contributing to what may, in fact, be the extinction of certain microbes that mammals have evolved to use and need for life and health for one hundred and fifty million years.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, said Alexander Pope in 1709 and boy, was he telling the truth.
We figure out something like antibiotics and how to cut a babe from its mother's womb or the internal combustion engine and we think we've discovered the secrets to life, meanwhile fucking up far more than we know.
All I know is that I don't know shit and that the closer to the dirt I live, the better for me and for everyone else.
And that I will not be wearing a bathing suit that squishes me and makes me hurt or have heartburn in this or any other lifetime.
Time to put the chickens up.