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I found it strange how men swam in the pool without seeming to feel even a tad bit uneasy about their less than perfect bodies, hairy, dark, with proud paunches wearing a swimsuit that was nothing more than a boxer While I, Another Imperfect Woman, Shivered in my suit, Wondering if more than my contours were visible, Even though it was dark, Even though the swimsuit covered what's "necessary to cover". My first swimming lesson And instead of feeling proud for having dared, for having tried, A Million Thoughts crossed my fearful mind. The fat belly. The fat arms. Hairy armpits. Sunburns. Chlorine. Shape. Shame. Thighs too flabby. Hips too large. Hold your breath. Keep your head down. Pull the suit's edges Let it cover some more skin. I need to wax. I need to look thin. My first swimming lesson And before feeling the fear of water I felt shame. And if perfection is the need only for women. Oh, I tell you, it's a...

Who is she, That ugly old woman? She says she grew up Facing the vagaries of life. Oh, didn't I do the same? I would tell her Had she not been so vain. I looked at her eyes, Puffed up as if she just cried. I've spent sleepless nights crying, I could tell her, Had she been my friend. Who is she, That woman who looks nothing like me? She is dressed up in black, Mourning the death of someone akin. Haven't I mourned deaths? I have mourned them Till there were no tears left. I would let her know But she seemed tearless herself. Who is she, The lady I couldn't like? She runs her fingers Through her long grey hair And sings songs of despair. 'Who are you?' I asked her, at last. The answer I couldn't bear As I kept looking At the image in the mirror.