Mascara And Falling Trees

Somedays I need
Five different cosmetics
Applied meticulously
In the same order
In the same fashion
To feel like
I have eyes-
Two fawn colored orbs
Floating above
A black horizon
Is what passes
For the natural look.
 

Somedays I need
To wear my jeans
Pulled up
Past my hips,
Past my belly button
In order to feel
Like I have a figure.
It only figures
that what I will have
Is pinched doughy midrift
Above wide hips-
Those precursers to
A wide behind.

 

Somedays I shave,
And pick, and pluck
And tweeze for hours-
So my skin
Is hairless enough
To feel like a woman-
I'm bumpy, red,
Raw and ashamed
Because I know
The fuzz will return
As my own body
Betrays the "acceptable"
Look for my gender.

 

Somedays I fidget
With the straps
Of my bra-
An item designed
To make me
Look better in shirts.
Cotton, spandex, and polyblend
Are all that stands
Between my b***s
And my knees,
Because physiology
And gravity
Care nothing for fashion.

 

Somedays I wonder
About trees falling
In the forest
With no one around.
Does a point exist
With no one to
To make, or support it?
Who is there
To impress when
What once was
So damn important
Doesn't matter anymore?

 

Somedays I wonder
Whom my days
Are really for?
And if being
Expelled from the herd
Would really be
So bad.

Reviews

[Allison Julia Mouret]

You speak starkly of the stereotypes for women, and it's bold and truthful. Well done.

[R J Askew]

Great poem. I enjoyed this very much. I was gazing at my read requests and the title sprang out and put it's arm round my shoulders, 'Step this way, sir'. It's a lovely poem from start to finish because it has humbleness and wisdom about it, and a slap of reality, too. But the pivot is the brilliant little hop and a skip from fashion to forest and the falling tree. Examining the things we -- men as well -- do for fashion and vanity exposes the nonsense of it all. You rise above it in your description. But it is the sheer orginality of link with the forest that distinguises the poem. It could have been a good poem even without the tree element, but the tree makes it excellent. And of course no one sees the poor tree fall, or the sad woman in later years when she finally realises, 'Sod it, enough of this nonsense', and she stops trying to impress others and becomes comfortable in her own bark and branches. IF ONLY ALL WOMEN AT WHATEVER AGE COULD FREE THEMSELVES FROM THE MADNESS OF MASCARA !!! True beauty is internal.

[Klyn]

The title pulled me in....and girl, I feel your pain. Figure? What the hell is that? I used to wear a size 2....and somewhere down the line...a 1 got stuck in front of it. Awww, the rewards of three kids, gravity and age. Now, I see my 14 yr old daughter falling for the same messages of the media....It's scary. I love this, so honest and soul searching.

~Klyn

[Lynn Mariposa]

I like the title, "Mascara and Falling Trees". It is very unique and drew my attention.
I love this line: "Are all that stands
Between my b***s
And my knees,
Because physiology
And gravity
Care nothing for fashion."
How true! I felt some frustrated and a feeling of "I Have Had It!" in this poem. I think "Mascara and Falling Trees" is strong because it is simple and honest.

[Brentley]

That was a very unusual way to look at it, but it makes since. The vanity of females especially, no offense, has become so great in American that it is frightening. It used to be okay to be different, but not anymore.