Thunder thighs
When my boyfriend decided to get me gym pants for my birthday,
Somehow his raised eyebrows forced an explanation
how only extras of largeness would accommodate my thighs.
Don’t worry my thighs can hold up anything, I assure him, again.
And I let my thighs jingle like thunder,
as I walk across him in my shorts.
Oh! They say it’s an aftermath of jinxed hormones
that lost their right proportions.
PCOD-Not Healthy-not fertile-not feminine enough,
A hundred eyes of objection,
A thousand and one remedies and another list of workouts and pills,
too many misconceptions and mis-proportions from head to toe.
I too have spend my days scrubbing off - that cellulite, jumping off – that stretch marks,
trying to accommodate my thighs in an L.
Lately in the shadow of life tumbling without warning,
I began to see how my thighs boom and roar not needing a validation.
While my mirror strikes my thunder thighs these days,
I imagine the ancient Amazon women,
strength and might, holding up an entire generation within.
Ha! I no longer fight them – my thunder thighs,
I fight with them, for my PCOD reversal,
Where I need them for every resistance I hold.