Like many, I am sometimes scorned for my rounded face, my ample size. Consigned to contempt by a cruel and crazy culture. Yet, I have the body of a Goddess!
Mine is no Barbie-clone set upon the Altar of Consumption by the descendants of the Mother-haters. Sculpted by silicone and surgery and the fanaticism of aerobic ritual, until it is whittled so little it is easy to overpower or ignore!
I have a real woman's body. My breasts are big and bountiful. My belly and buttocks round as rolling hills. My hips are plush - and broad enough to carry my den of delicious fertility. My thighs are full and strong as oak trees. My arms have the power to support the world - yet are tender enough to comfort a crying child.
I am Woman. And I do not apologize for my size, nor for eating, nor for sleeping, nor for laughing, nor for loving nor for simply living in this mad and misogynistic world!
I am woman and I am Mother and, if you're lucky... I am lover. But most of all I am myself.
Poetry 
