madame zenobia's

as i was working out, i noticed another woman on the tread-mill. she was in her groove...working hard and sweating up a storm. she was a petite woman with large breasts...i mean size dd's on a size 6 frame. of course, i was trying not to be obvious, but i couldn't help but look at her. and then i noticed her lips...plumped with collagen.

back in the day, i would have been the number one hater. i would have taken one look at her small frame and flat abs and rolled my eyes. but this gym thing has helped me put things into perspective. i'm doing much better with me and my body and the space i take up in the world. no doubt, i have my bad days when i become fixated on my stomach or my arms or my chin. thankfully, those days are happening in much less frequency, but they still make their appearances (especially when i get stressed out like during exams). i used to think that only big girls felt the pressure of unreal expectations placed on us by a standard of beauty that is practically impossible to achieve. ok. let me give some props. certainly, the media and various advertising outlets are trying to do better by using more models of color. and, in some instances, models with curves. thank goodness for that. but taking barbie down is quite a task, and we've got lots more work to do. and the bratz dolls are not the answer. anyway...

so the lady at the gym moves from the tread-mill to the eliptical to the right of me. i wondered if she felt the same pressure that i did. it seems to me that she would be under a different type of surveillance, right? always feeling like she was walking down the cat walk (literally). why would she elect to get breast implants, especially the size that she selected? (of course, these statements are coming from someone who has been blessed in that department, so i don't know how it feels to be without). or why would she have her lips plumped? i had so many questions, and perhaps none of the questions applied to her case. at this point, while i'm having these thoughts, i had been on the eliptical a good 20 minutes on my way to 30 minutes, so this scenario has been duly influenced by my lack of oxygen and the fire in my muscles.

if she were to answer "yes" to any of the questions i posed, that would seem to indicate that we're both under surveillance. knowing that is certainly gonna help me keep my hateration in check.

poem of the day
Maya Angelou

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.