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Belly Words

Writing from my belly.

This is something I’m going to start doing. Why? Because I hate my belly. Like my mom and her mom, I’m tall and thin, with a belly. Any weight I put in first goes to my stomach. So I end up thick through the middle with danglely arms and stick legs. An AT-AT walker kind of woman, except on two legs instead of four.

Can I learn to love my belly and love my mom and grandmom? The bit of revulsion I just felt as I typed that last sentence makes me think, probably not, on an emotional, easy to reach level. Can I learn to love my belly – my full, comforting belly filled with fuel and warming my body like a hearth?

Can I learn to treat it right – not overstuffing it with newspaper and garbage that blows through the house leaving soot and burnt garbage everywhere? Can I learn to burn fragrant wood, dried and cut properly to leave a minimum of soot and learn to clean the hearth and chimney properly?

From the belly. The belly that feeds me.

It’s weird because I left off this post to go make lunch (heh) and then did my semi-daily calisthenics: my crunches and weights (weights for my arms). As I was doing the crunches, I realized that they are driven by hatred for my belly – real hatred: like I want to make it disappear. I want the poking out hip bones of my teens; the ones I see in fashion ads and to a lesser extent, the (American) movies. I realized the loathing there is in our society for middle aged and older, women.

Here I am, a forty-five year old woman trying to make my body look like it’s sixteen.

Imagine a forty-five year old man doing that and how preposterous it would be.

Yet, I doubt I am the only thirty and upwards woman attempting this impossible feat.

“Hey, Malcolm, humans fill out when they get older. A teen is not mature. Would you try to make yourself look like a child?!”

Gulp. Where does a woman go to see pictures of normal middle-aged women?

The middle-aged men are all over the media in positions of authority. The middle-aged women are there too, but in much fewer numbers. Where are the middle-aged women?! Not the plastic surgery, liposuction addicts but the real, solid ladies? The ones who embrace brains, practical choices and a life of friends, power – personal and beyond – and maturing: becoming capable, dependable and credible?

Where are these women? There are many, many, many more pictures of women than men out there in the art/reproduction and media realms, no? Yet they are all clustered in the thirteen to thirty-five age group. Thirty-five: half of seventy. Thirty-five: the year I realized that there were no more excuses for anything. I was Adult and fully responsible for myself.

Sad, that this is the age at which we stop seeing images of women for. It’s like the fully adult woman doesn’t exist. Perhaps, in most cases, she becomes Mom.

* Sorry for the abrupt end, but this mature lady has some work to do. I will pick up next time I write. Tis fucking cool to be a Leddy!

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I understand you very well.

I understand you very well. I am also tall and thin. Just start doing physical exercises! But first read or listen some books about it. You should know how to do the exercises in order to make smth smaller. There are a lot of details everybody should know before doing gymnastics. Try to find some book about it at . I always do so. It is very convenient.

A little bit of a belly on a

A little bit of a belly on a woman can be sexy, trust me. Take it from a guy who has been with no more than an average number of women throughout his life thus far. Now if you look preggers we've got problems, but under that a bit of a tummy is hot, as long as you're not rockin the uncontrolled muffin top ;) -Jay


Heh! Though truthfully, the cowboy in that scenario would have a sculpted abdomen - but solid, not frail and unformed; master of his own physical, as well as social and spiritual destiny, instead of... potential: unformed physicality as well as (unformed) social networks and spiritual beliefs... waiting to blossom under the firm but guiding hand of a man!

So perhaps this lady should have a solid rock hard abdomen! Well-fed and strong! Hot, hot, hot! This woman seduces the evil ones, gets in close then shanghais them and takes all their money, weapons and power. She's a master of deceit - for good! She's a lonesome cowgirl because of unspeakable atrocities she saw as a child. Everyone loves and reveres her.

Suppose the family is why we don't have these role models. Women get married, focus on their children and let the men do what they want out there in the world, as long as they bring home enough resources to live and raise and the kids in comfort.

Er, I doubt you'll be openly attacked for looking older than you dress, unless you start sexing it up!

If you dress childlike, you may just get passed over for opportunities. Well, depending on what field you want to work in. I wouldn't be surprised however, if all else considered equal, the more powerfully dressed (physically, socially, spiritually powerful) person would be offered the book deal, professorship, magazine column, etc. over the less powerfully dressed person. And if it is a psychological refuge - refuge from growing up? - that's not terribly good, even if our society rewards women for remaining young... It's a weird one... women are encouraged to remain young, yet are they really rewarded for being young/naive?

I think the strong, practical, mature women are still rewarded. The men want these traits, but they want them (these traits, women) to help them achieve their goals, not for the women to have their own goals. Does that make sense?

The problem is grabbing onto your own goals and sticking to them, even if it puts you outside the glut of men and women who accept women as the helpers of the men. Being mature, practical and strong for your own goals, not those of a man/men. It's one thing to wear a sexy dress because your boyfriend likes it, and another thing entirely to wear one because you want to land that book deal, get that professorship or magazine column or what-have-you. Does that make sense? I mean, wearing a sexy dress does not necessarily equate with power, but if you realize what it can do, and use that, it's way powerful.

My Catholic upbringing told me this was wrong when in fact, it's only natural. It wouldn't surprise me if all of nature and existence loves sex and power! Procreation. New life. Human vitality! (Or vitality, in general.)

: )


Dolls, cartoons, fanatasies --- our only physical role models. Would I ever love some show or film where a tough, sturdy, middle-aged woman kicks the ass of evil; with close ups on her tough-ass stubble; under eyeshadows from contemplation of her dark past, and all the men she's left behind for duty; and indeed, a paunch that says this cowgirl ain't riding hungry. Ah. The women in Ireland eat a lot of potatoes and I enjoy their aesthetis of going from giggly-elfin-teen to stern-potatoish-wife (but they have too many kids and there is no feminism here yet, so it is overall a bad situation). I myself have strange proportions: small with a huge head. It has the effect that people often assume I am younger than I am. I also dress in colourful rags, don't wear makeup or style my hair so much... all of which I like, but sometimes I worry that I'm taking psychological refuge in a childish appearance (and whether such an effective disguise is wrong) or moreover, that people will someday begin attacking me for looking older than I dress.

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