Brianna jacobs

Flexible To Fit In Anywhere (G)

 

Two days away from 34,

the face in the mirror stares back at me.

My mother always said "find the good and praise it", So I begin with what I see, and with my eyes, the key to how I see the rest of my self.

My eyes are deep dark brown, not muddied or matte, but reflective, "they catch the light and cut souls open", so I have been told. They make me stand out in a photograph, not blend in with the others, and though I wear make up, very little is needed because my deep brown eyes speak for themselves.

They allow me to see the arch of my eye brows and the scars upon my forehead,

so many accidents and stitches that now fold into the line of the brow,

a bump my my nose that no culture can claim,

Jewish? German? Italian? French? Canadian?

My passport says American, but my appearance at five foot four with olive skin dark eyes, and black straight hair, means I belong to all, and I blend in wherever I am. It is flattering..

The black hair is natural, color highlight and luster like this does not come from a bottle. As a child I grieved that the summer sun cast red shadows upon it instead of blonde streaks on my blue eyes anglo friends, but oh how I long for the bing cherry lines of my youth, that still make appearances in the summer sun of my bangs, along the strands of gray that begin to creep in.

The chin length texture is new, and the straightness never ceases, the hair is straight everywhere, even along the creek beds, crags, and plains of my body. I felt abnormal when I saw others flora as bushes, and mine straight and sparse, rarely needing pruning anywhere. Now I embrace that I need not buy pink pruning equipment!

36, 36, 36 strong, my ribs as wide as my hips, the divots in my shoulders from years of carry 6lbs of weight up front. Rejoicing that I am a size 10, and yet long for a day that I may run without a corset. My breasts flow like oatmeal, if they are not contained in a cup they just expand, natural as natural can be. I have never had a complaint, but how I have longed that they stay "there" when I raise my arms high, and pray they never tumble over the pedestal of my ribs. 36 D and 36DD, right bigger than left, and dipped in mouthful of milk chocolate with a mosquito bite of a nipple, that hide most of the time. They are shaped and cupped and held, a buffer between hug, comfort objects, a softness and a realness that has never been turned away, always the same words "so big, so real, so natural", so becoming more comfortable unleashing and going natural more often.

My bones are big, and my skin is soft, and the lines that cover my skin speak to a time that I grew too fast at 8 years old. I use to think of them as "fat lines" the stretch marks that go over my buttocks and thighs, to go along with my "wide calf boots", until I became a runner and realize that as I ran nothing in my trunk juggled or moved. That when I run or walk, my legs are a solid mass of muscle, beautifully chiseled braided muscle, and all I can focus on, is the loose bit between my legs. Wide calfs? Fat Lines? How about skier, mountain climber, jump roper, runner, dancer, with ripped legs. When my thighs and butt don't fit in jeans, I no longer think Fat, rather fuel.

I look good for 34, no wrinkles, plush lips, with a bright smile with straight enough teeth,  a few gray hairs.With flowing breasts, wide ribs, and strong legs, I am more flexible than any I know. from standing feet flat on the floor legs together, my hands always go flat, occasionally my elbows do too. I can still do a cartwheel and splits in both directions, and flying dutchman straight splits on a trampoline.

Darted clothing was made for me,

and black scoop neck shirts.

I can go anywhere in the world, and blend right in,

be seen on stage from the biggest chorus call,

and "yes this is my natural hair color".

- G