Pretty Me Not

Recently someone sent me these lyrics from the Village People:

"Body...wanna feel my body?

Body...such a thrill my body

Body...wanna touch my body?'s too much my body.

check it out my body, body

Don't you doubt my body, body

talkin' bout my body, body

check it out my body"

These words made me reconsider bodies in contemporary media, particularly female bodies, and particularly the space between what we as women experience and what others parade as models in front of us. I call my response

Pretty Me Not

Disney stick chicks not

Runway ravenous not

Beauty queens not.

"Not known, because not looked for".**

Nor, like minimus, of hindering knot-grass made.*


Ravaged by time

Shredded by deformities

Distorted by bigotries and imperfections

Death masks our destiny.

And all that remains

Are bits and pieces of yesterday.

Pretty Me Not

For the Awful Truth is

That I...and we...

Are fast disappearing into

the dust bin of history.

The species to come may not like us

very much

Addicted to war, we don't seem to like ourselves

very much.

Can we change? Will we change?

Pretty We Not

But maybe, just maybe

Wise in time.

c. Corinne Whitaker 2013

(In truth, there are those whose outlook is less cynical than mine, and you can read about their rosy prognostications at the Positive Futurist.)

*Forsooth have I quoted the Bard, taken words from a Midsummer Night's Mare.

**And thanked TS for "Little Gidding", which you can find in full at Eliot.