A POEM FOR MY OLDER SELF

When I was younger I really cared about how I looked and loved to read fashion magazines. I wanted to feel beautiful so I could feel loved and appreciated. I wanted boys to think I was pretty.

As a 45 year old woman, I no longer worry as much about how I look. I still want to look clean and tidy but I have a different relationship with my body now. I do not long for the appreciation of others or view it through other people’s imagined eyes.

I care much more about how I am able to live my life and how my body supports me to do so. I wrote this poem below to express my feelings.

To my older self

Let my eyes no longer gaze at the veins on my feet but on words of inspiration on a page.

Allow my ears no longer listen to the life hacks of others but to the beautiful songs of the morning birds welcoming another chance.

Instead of cursing the shade of my teeth, let me savour the sensation of the juicy berries and hazelnut croissant.

Rather than gaze online at the pursuits of others let me look at the beautiful faces of my sons in admiration

Let my hands support others to find healing rather than pinch the fold of my stomach

Give my feet permission to walk pine tree laden paths rather than be squeezed into stilettos.

Allow my arms to embrace a tree and feel how it has survived storms rather than looking at their tone.

Let my nose smell the calming scent of lavender rather than the most wanted signature scent.

Submerge my body in a baptism of warm water rather than shrink it down

Let my legs sway and wriggle with freedom as I dance, rather than disguise with tanning lotion.

Allow my glutes to support me in my yoga practice rather than be the source of admiration

Let me grow explore learn all over again until its time to learn no more.