Women talk a lot about body size, but do you ever think about the size you are inside? Never mind the measurable width of your bones; do you feel stronger when you imagine them hefty, like oak rooted deep in your self, or stone? Or do you feel stronger when you sense your bones have a delicate spirit, bird-fine, dream-light?
As for your hips, thighs, breasts - forget a moment their weight or size. How do they feel as they move through the world? Do they sway languorously, as if you are slow-dancing? Or do they barge against everything and send shudders through your soul?
My wish for women would be that we stopped listening to the voices of the media and diet industry, and instead listened to the wise and beautiful whisper that lives within our own bodies. If you feel jagged and dry inside, then that is more skinny than any outer measure of thinness, and it needs balm, a lavishment of oil, a warm softening of sweetness. If you feel bulbous, dolloped on the world, then that needs gentle talking about, regardless of your waist size.
Imagine if we stopped looking at our bodies and instead stood within them, experiencing each element of them until we knew that heaviness made us feel grounded or made us feel exhausted; until we understood that the slight curve of our fingerbones were an expression of overdoing or a subtle, graceful dance of bone.
Imagine if we lived inside of ourselves.