She nestles her head into my stomach,
my “no touch zone”.
I try not to flinch.
I play with a particularly perfect curl
a bit of her coiled ’round my fingertip
Her little voice rises up so innocently,
“Why is your belly so jiggly?”
And I feel shame as if I were 13 again
lusting after those Jordache jeans.
Mad at my body for all that it’s not…
skinny, little, graceful.
But then, there’s shame for feeling shame,
I’m a Mother after all…
I pick my words carefully
Perfectly selected, delicate fruit for tender ears.
I want to nourish her.
I want her to know no shame.
“Because it’s full of love.”
“It grew three beautiful babies.”
“I love my jiggly belly because it reminds me of you.”
And for a moment, I believe
My mothering words
to my five year old daughter.
How do you teach
What you’re still learning?