my skin is a ziplock baggie containing my thoughts

I like the idea of aging with grace. wrinkles and gray signs of a life well lived. luckily, i get to read and discuss this in my feminism class this semester, and this is a journal entry i wrote for class. Susan Bordo expresses concern that women refuse to age, not recognizing the beauty of life, movement, completion. perfection is boring. we are constantly told to be beautiful, this one certain kind of beautiful.

What have we done to our bodies?

We have defied age.

but, what is age- certainly more than appearance

it is our life’s work displayed in crevaces of emotion

around our eyes and lips

here age speaks: “I have seen spoken experienced

existed ”

Perhaps it is wisdom we don’t want to live up to? Maybe looking younger demand less on one’s concept of accomplishment? Have our years taught us nothing but submission to the greater opinion.

We cannot escape ourselves.

i am not my body

i am me

Bordo asks the question, “ When did perfection become applicable to a human body?” I respond, “always”. No one asks for the face they wear. My skin is a ziplock baggie containing my thoughts; it will be thrown out when my thoughts live on. We have always wanted perfection because we want what we cannot have. Perfection is never satisfied and it is always changing. “You alter your body because I have altered your thought”, society says. “You’re wrong,” I say, “my desire to look how she looks is absolutely coincidental.” I know it is a lie.