Da da da dada da da da dah … was not the sound that would have been made by my body notes. Imagine a dark night, a ghost town barely remembered by tourists of days past. A tumble weed rolls passed – we’ve only stopped here to get gas and maybe sleep in our car on our way to the next town. In a window of a garage that hasn’t been open for car repairs in at least a decade, sits a small toy monkey with brass cymbals and a dismayed look upon its face. Now imagine winding this monkey up… it’s cold, damp, lonesome and quite a pity – what tune do you hear when this monkeys’ sounds are released… bump… baeehhh…reeeghh..grind..clunk.. whooomph..
*cut to next scene where head slumps over shoulders… eyes look up disheartened like my dog when the walk we took him on wasn’t long enough.. wasn’t fun enough… we didn’t ‘play’ enough with him.
These are the looks and notes of disappointment, disenchantment, displeasure, dis, dat, and de odder ting.. lol.
My ab did some work though – I feel like I have one dormant ab that forms a blobby circle around my belly and lower back – like a donut or inner tube. The air was pushed from here like when you lose tire pressure in winter. I will no longer body shame though – only tease to bring some light in – after all – there’s a saying that goes, “Every time we speak negatively to and about our bodies a straight, rich, white man gets richer”. I won’t support the patriarchy in this way.
That sad monkey, with slumped shoulders, rusty cymbals, and crunchy insides lifts his head ever so slightly so his gaze reaches mine…
“Really? Really self- aggrandizing white lady? Really?”
where rivers are born 