I envy the elasticity he has in his body. “I’ve lived on wine for the last 8 weeks. Of course I have a power belly.” Never have those last two words been juxtaposed in regards to my body.
I’m naked. Lying in bed above the covers, watching him get dressed. He does have a little belly. Not the kind that hangs, but cantilevers. Adding, not subtracting from his masculinity or, he’s right, from his power.
I didn’t notice it in clothes. Or lying in bed later as I traced the lines of his tattoos on a chest that is smooth by genetics, not razors. I noticed it once in bed for a moment when he was on top of me. Oh. There it is. It’s one of the flashes from that night that catches in the replay. My, teeth nibbling then biting the flesh of his lower lip. His, hand around my throat. My, ears ringing. My, nipple between his teeth. His, stomach, changing nothing besides the speed of my thoughts. Pause. Inhale. Notice. In the sweetness between pleasure given and pleasure received, I marvel at this man and his body. An anatomy lesson of a life lived. Shown in shape not lack there of.
There is power in his belly because it doesn’t mean anything. Because it is the thing that changes while he stays the same. Whereas my curves mean everything. They are the things that change in me, on me, but unlike him, how they do so draws directly to my worth. Unlike him, no matter their size, they make me small and big at the same time.
Women have told me since I was young to enjoy it now. To just wait until I’m 30 or 40 or whenever I cross the line that means there is no going back. That means this body will cease to be mine but belong to what, age, expectation, degradation, bigness? It doesn’t feel like wisdom. It feels like a sentence. Is it true?
Watching this man who’s never heard that story, I don’t think so.
I’m not a naked person. I don’t walk around my house naked. I don’t sleep naked unless with company. But I’m naked now. Watching this man apply clothes to a body that hasn’t carried the same weight of worthiness. His carries something else, but not this. Even with all its hard-earned mass his body seems lighter than mine. I wonder what it would be like to be that weight.