lessons from a power belly.

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. 

3 Responses to lessons from a power belly.

  1. Jana waters March 19, 2018 at 4:00 pm #

    I am 61 years old. Sometimes I can’t believe that I have reached this age. I do know that while the common wisdom is “your body will bulk up during menopause or after sixty, or just expect to gain weight as you age” none of that has to be true. I have amazing Danish genes on my side but I also have me on my side. I don’t spend much time thinking about my weight and I don’t own a scale. If my clothes fit the way I want them to I’m good if not I scale back. Your body, my love, is always yours and belongs to no one but you. Become a naked person, you’ll be happy you did. Xoxojana

    • maddie March 23, 2018 at 4:43 pm #

      Thank you. For all this wisdom. And the acknowledgment that we all have it if we just listen. Here’s to being a naked person. xo, Maddie

  2. Howard Thompson March 28, 2018 at 9:49 pm #

    The most undeniable pleasure I have ever experienced was with a beauty of female form…a woman with genuine curves…rubenesque…sensual…and far from the norm of what I envisioned to be my ideal mate. I soon came to realize that all of my gym-rat preconceptions of desirability were soon to be thrown out the window…that I had never been with someone that turned my crank to the degree she did. Within her nakedness was an undeniable confidence and sexuality, the likes of which I had never been privy. Such a pleasure to be with a lover who didn’t fit the mold…who loved who she was and how she looked, and had the tools in her tool box to back it up. A lesson well-learned by me, for sure. And while I still strive to maintain my perceived ideal physique, it is not nearly as important as it once was. My love handles are just that…grab ’em and enjoy ’em. I, like Jana, love and enjoy my naked self, and even though I don’t often get to be the naturist within, whenever the opportunity presents itself, I am easily convinced to ditch my outer layers and gobble up that freedom. The times spent at Black’s Beach in San Diego, or Verde Hot Springs in Arizona, or Playa del Carmen in Mexico, or anywhere else I’ve been sans clothes, have been enlightening experiences that have only added undeniable pleasure to my life. Try it Maddie. I think you would love the liberation, since you appear to be the most liberated woman I know.

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