I found it strange
how men swam in the pool
without seeming to feel
even a tad bit uneasy
about their less than perfect bodies,
hairy,
dark,
with proud paunches
wearing a swimsuit
that was nothing more than a boxer
While I,
Another Imperfect Woman,
Shivered in my suit,
Wondering if more than my contours were visible,
Even though it was dark,
Even though the swimsuit covered
what's "necessary to cover".


My first swimming lesson
And instead of feeling proud
for having dared,
for having tried,
A Million Thoughts
crossed my fearful mind.


The fat belly.
The fat arms.
Hairy armpits.
Sunburns.
Chlorine.
Shape.
Shame.


Thighs too flabby.
Hips too large.
Hold your breath.
Keep your head down.
Pull the suit's edges
Let it cover some more skin.
I need to wax.
I need to look thin.


My first swimming lesson
And before feeling
the fear of water
I felt shame.


And if perfection is the need
only for women.
Oh, I tell you, it's a disease
that brings nothing but shame.


So, as my feet touched the water beneath,
To kill the shame, to feel free
I realized what I really, really need.
I needed not to burn calories,
Nor a little waxing.
All I really needed
Was to not think.