The Politics of Pretty: Feminity and Fuckability

Take up Space – Temmie Ovwasa

The Angels sing Hallelujah,
While your Body bends,
Your left Leg over his right Shoulder,
Your right Leg around his Waist,
You wait for it to be over ,
Like you wait every Night,
You count the usual One to Ten,
You do this Eighteen times,
and then it’s over.

You know,
To him You’re just a Body with a Hole, His Ego is bigger than his Heart,
His Ego does nothing for your Body,
His Ego does nothing for your Soul,
But He tells you once again,
Maybe if your Legs could bend some more,
Without the Flesh of your protruding Belly getting in the way,
Maybe He’d actually be interested in staying a little longer,
In actually pleasing You.

So you make up your Mind,
Just like you did the Night before and the One before that,
To shed more Dead Weight,
To be more flexible,
To wear more Makeup
To be more “Fuckable”.
But no matter how much you bend yourself for Him,
He’ll still never bother to please You.

But You learnt this from your Mother,
Didn’t you?
To bend yourself for any Man that finds You worthy enough to grace his Bed,
To shrink yourself for any Human that finds you Good enough to fit into their Life;
They say You take up a lot of Space,
So if they create Room for You,
It’s a favor.

Your Meals got Smaller,
Your Demons got Bigger,
Your Weight, Heavier;
Darling, Despair weighs a lot more than Body Fat,
Every Inch of your Skin is glorious.

And I swear by the Angels your Mother prays to,
You’ve always been Beautiful,
You’ve always been Worthy.
Take up Space,
Please,
Take up Space.

©Temmie Ovwasa