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If I could drop dead right now, I'd be the happiest man alive. ~ Samuel Goldwyn
They say there is beefcake for every fine lassie,
As long as you promise to keep your fine chassis!
While his member is throbbing to enter a beauty,
He doesn’t care which… only knows it’s his duty!
So I’m leaving the men, to their own discredit ~
And what of my cake? I already et it!
I’ve felt the chill of this world cut down to the bone.
I’ve walked many a mile down this road on my own.
I’ve been through hell on my knees ~
Come face to face with the devil.
And I know that it’s hard to believe… but it gets better.
I like this scripture. I’ve heard it a million times.
But I think I should like to hear it a billion more.
It makes utter sense to stay healthy and strong, to be as nourishing to the body as possible. Yet I would have to agree, there is in many women a "hungry" one inside. But rather than hungry to be a certain size, shape, or height, rather than hungry to fit the stereotype; women are hungry for basic regard from the culture surrounding them. The "hungry" one inside is longing to be treated respectfully, to be accepted, and in the very least, to be met without stereotyping. If there really is a woman "screaming to get out" she is screaming for the cessation of the disrespectful projections of others onto her body, her face, her age.
The idea in our culture of body solely as sculpture is wrong. Body is not marble. That is not its purpose. Its purpose [is] to protect, contain, support, and fire the spirit and soul within it, to be a repository for memory, to fill us with feeling--that is the supreme psychic nourishment. It is to lift us and propel us, to fill us with feeling to prove that we exist, that we are here, to give us grounding, heft, weight...The body is the launcher of those experiences. Without body there would be no sensations of crossing thresholds, there would be no sense of lifting, no sense of height, of weightlessness.
The body is like an earth. It is a land unto itself. It is as vulnerable to overbuilding, being carved into parcels, cut off, overmined, and shorn of its power as any landscape.
There is a line in Ntozake Shange's "for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf." In the play, the woman...speaks after having struggled to deal with all the psychic and physical aspects of herself that the culture ignores or demeans. She sums herself up in these wise and peaceful words:
here is what i have...
so much love
Panache is a word of French origin that carries the connotation of a flamboyant manner and reckless courage. The literal meaning of the word is a plume, such as is worn on a hat or a helmet.
The epitome of panache and the reason for its establishment as a virtue, is Rostand's depiction of Cyrano de Bergerac. (Prior to Rostand, panache was not necessarily a good thing, and was seen by some as a suspect quality).
Cyrano's last words " ... yet there is something still that will always be mine, and when I go to God's presence, there I'll doff it and sweep the heavenly pavement with a gesture — something I'll take unstained out of this world ... my panache ".
Panache Galore (her real name)