Boom, there she is, smoking hot. You can tell from the way she is looking us straight in the eye that she is her own person. She is swathed in a golden glow, radiant, confident. Oh, the gossip and chatter buzzes: fillers, filters, spray tanned, airbrushed, skinny, privileged, hairpiece, work done. I ignore the sniping and second guessing and stare right back at her, because she exudes a feeling I want. Sure, there is damn good lighting. But look closer: There are lines, thickening, sagging, spots. Signs of life: evidence of pushing, scraping, creating, getting gut punched, knocked down, stomped on, locked up. Here is someone who honed that unwavering gaze by hauling herself back up, through the pain and paparazzi, rising up when critics spat and doubted: rebuilding, reinventing, redefining. This is a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who dared to dream it, to nail it, to be the boss, to own it. To set her own table. I don’t care what she looks like: thin, fat, hairless or hairy, nipped or tucked, black or white; I want that grit, that nerve, that mettle. I want to be a woman who lives out loud, who lives in color, who looks good for her age or any age, the one who gets it done, fearless, a survivor. I want to embrace all the cliches, slash through the stereotypes, bare it all in front of naysayers, and live to tell the tale – unapologetically, unafraid, with gusto, staring into the camera, saying: Here I am. Just watch me. Just try to stop me. I want to be like Martha Stewart: Living.
28 Comments
26 more comments...No posts
I hope Martha Stewart got to read this. It's good!
I am not normally a reader of poetry. But, I thought the poem about Martha Stewart Living as cover girl of Sports Illustrated was excellent. The poem was written by a woman who understood how hard it was to look good as she ages. It is hard even with wrinkle filler and plastic surgery and a fitness coach and a top notch hairstylist and every other advantage money can buy. Martha is an outlier.