Hello again, I’m Lisa Scully-O’Grady and welcome to my third Showcase on the theme of change. This week, I wanted to talk about changes in relation to the body, women’s in particular, as I can see this is a big topic of interest for you. I’m sharing some wonderful poems, as well as a novel extract, with that in mind.

Our bodies do so much for us and yet they change all the time, sometimes imperceptibly; at other times more rapidly and obviously. The transformative stages are significant teenage-hood, motherhood and childbirth (and not just for women) and, of course, menopause and beyond. Our bodies can also be altered due to surgery, illness or disability, or even due to exercise. We all need to talk about these topics more in order to break down the invisible barriers between us. With just a bit of curiosity we can see that we are all the same on the inside, with similar fears, hopes and dreams.

Women tend to give themselves a hard time as they internalise messages, from the wider culture, of what the perfect body should look like. Up until now this has rarely been positive, but we are changing things. Of course, men’s bodies change too but none of them submitted on this topic. One for another time, perhaps?

First up is this amazing illustration from Danny Baxter. He’s captured what I wanted to convey with this page perfectly!

Connect with Danny on Instagram: @dan_lbbd

In my first poem, the reader is drawn right into the never-ending judgement we are subjected to throughout our lives. I can feel the relentlessness of the tone, reflecting certain aspects of our lived experience, depending on our resilience levels at any given time or season of our lives.

Why Don’t You

why don’t you
change
your pants
your attitude,
young lady,
your clothes
your hair
your style
your make up
your antisocial ways
          that habit for a start
your font
and letter size
your role in
your family –
your family-
your nappy
your job
your ambitions
your direction
your priorities
your scenery
the seasons
where you live?

© Eithne Cullen, 2020

Connect with Eithne on Instagram: @eithnecullen57

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This second poem speaks to how self-conscious women can feel in later life as they can start to feel invisible, unseen by their family and society. Of course, they don’t have to feel like this but writing about it can help to cut through the illusions.

The Older Lady And Mirrors

The mirror in the entrance
Becoming bigger
Ripping
Your confidence

The smaller mirror
Of your prime
Reflecting
A piece of you
Chin or forehead
Mouth
Or one eye at a time
An elbow
The rest of the body
Forgotten
For now
Irrelevant

Comes the time
Of gowns and frocks
Suits and long coats
Heels and tights
A round belly to hold
There is so much of you
You forget
What is not you

Now there is only you
Your miserable skin
Covered
As much as bearable
You want to forget
About you
Disappear
Slash the mirror

That’s enough of you now
You’ve become irrelevant
You, your image
And the world behind

© Isabelle Audiger, 2024

Connect with Isabelle on X: @isaqudiger, on Instagram: @isabelleaudiger and via her website: https://isaudigerauteure.over-blog.com/

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Next, we have a poem that speaks of body image and the pressure to look good for the camera and how this pressure weighs on women and girls so much. How we can imagine we still look a certain way, only to see how much we’ve changed when we see a photo of ourselves. Just thinking about it is akin to a game of Twister!

Head Spin

When I was thin
I didn’t think I was
Now I’m not
I never realise how bad it’s got
Until I see it in pictures.

The camera never lies
But no-one points it out
Or they’re just kind
Like my daughters,
Who say they see my beauty
Within and without

But I see me
Every insecurity
Every year and line
My weight gain shows my pain
It doesn’t come out of my mouth
It shows on my frame

I try to ignore it
I know I’m more than my body
Then someone gets their camera out
The evidence is there for all to see
The shame triggers me
A self-fulfilling prophecy
Food and wine a comfort and a curse
I know I need help
Help starts with me

Or one day I’ll need a nurse

Or a hearse

Never enough for some
Too much for others
I’ve worked so hard
Trying to be enough
How do you know
When you’re
Adequate
Competent
When to stop and
When to rest
I guess I’ll rest when I’m dead

I’m in over my head

(c) Abby New, 2024 

Connect with Abby on Facebook: Abby New and Instagram: @alt_leaders

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Our last poem reminds us of how change can involve the pain of uncertainty. How do we get to the best parts of ourselves to release the rest?

Metamorphosis

Release it, let it go
Don’t replay it once more
Reviewing, replaying the past
Don’t become a hostage
To those bad times gone by
Forget the should haves, the could haves
The what might have beens
Release it, let it go
Think of the future unseen
It’s time to forgive yourself
Let go of it all
Time to metamorphose
Like a caterpillar change
Grow wings and fly free.

© Donna McCabe, 2024

Connect with Donna on Facebook: Poemsbydonnamccabe and Instagram: @donnamccabe_

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To finish , I’d like to share an extract from a fabulous novel by Eva Lauder, exploring body image and self-esteem following childbirth and matrescence.

Being Zara  (Extract)

Sitting on Ines’ favourite bench under the magnolia tree, the two friends huddled closer, against the cool night air, the sound of tyres sloshing over wet tarmac a wordless rhythm in the night. Flicking the lighter’s spark wheel into life, Ines shielded the flame as she lit a cigarette, its end glowing with the deep inhale she had taken. With a long exhale, she watched plumes of smoke prancing a jagged dance into the darkness. Slumping back into the bench, she glanced sideways at her friend who’d been twirling her blonde hair around a finger, distractedly. Zara had given up smoking soon after two blue lines beamed from the pregnancy test window and Ines wondered if she ever craved a smoke. ‘Want one?’

Pulling two knees into her chest, Zara shook a few wavy locks out of her eyes and, after some moments of searching, found the perfect spot to nestle her face into.

Understanding that the effervescence, the spunky young woman was known for had ebbed like a flame that was no longer being stoked, Ines was overcome with compassion. Brushing large circles across her friend’s back, she was distracted with her own thoughts; staring ahead at the apartment windows of the Georgian Villa*

***

A tiny voice broke the silence. ‘Ini, do you think I’m pretty?’

Taken aback by the words that came out of Zara, Ines released a steady stream of smoke out of the corner of her mouth, furrowing her brow before she spoke. ‘What? Are you kidding me? Sweetie, you’re gorgeous. Why would you say such a thing? Her free hand waved from Zara’s head to toe. ‘I mean, come on. Look at you. Blonde, big blue eyes and a great figure. Why do you ask this?’

In one fell swoop, all the troubles within her had been released through a large sigh. Dejected, Zara turned her head to face Ines. Chewing her lip, ruches of skin gathered around her face with the tremendous effort of not bursting into tears. Too late.*

Pulling Zara into a consoling embrace, Ines pondered how tonight was about comforting the Brunel-Flynn girls. One needed feeding and was over tired and the other? Well, she wasn’t known for bawling because she was hungry or needing sleep, so something was amiss. Ines spoke in hushed tones. ‘Want to talk about it?’*

What started out as a pitiful whimper swiftly turned into wailing of biblical proportions. Yes, Zara was known for her dramatic outbursts, but this seemed to be a genuine cry for help. ‘It’s Aiden. I don’t think he fancies me anymore. He won’t go near me.’ Sniffing between sobs, she wiped wet eyes with the back of a tear-soaked sleeve, dragging the remainder of mascara across ruddy cheeks. ‘If I try to touch him, he moves my hand away and just holds it. Like..like we’re kids having a first kiss or something.’

Rubbing a compassionate hand up Zara’s arm, Ines replied, ‘would you not try talking to him? It may be something that’s stressing him at work or back home in Ireland. Not all men are good in admitting there’s a problem.’

Dropping her head against a quiet, rising and falling chest, Zara grabbed her stomach, bulging like an overfilled cup-cake and kneaded it into grotesque shape. ‘Look at me, Ini. I look like the Pillsbury Doughboy for Christ’s sake! No wonder he won’t go near me. Hitching her hoodie under a rounded chin, Zara continued her impassioned speech. And this….’ Prodding a tentative finger against a neat red line under the offending roll of excess stomach, ‘this ugly line adds to the issue.’

Incredulous, Ines held her hand up, an indication for her self-deprecating friend to stop talking. ‘Woah woah woaaah. Where’s this coming from? First of all, you’ve had a c-section. That scar…’ waving a defiant finger in the gap between her and Zara’s stomach, ‘…is a badge of honour. You’ve been blessed with a beautiful baby and it’s a reminder of how strong you are to have endured the pain of bringing that little pudding sleeping in our spare room into the world.’ Tipping her chin towards their apartment for confirmation of Ava’s whereabouts, she turned to face her friend. ‘See what I mean?’

© Eva Lauder, 2022

Connect with Eva on Facebook: Eva Lauder author, X: @laulauev, Instagram: @EvaLauderAuthor and via her website: www.evalauder.com

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I hope you’ve enjoyed my selections for this week and that they’ve given you plenty to ponder upon until we meet again next week for my final instalment.

Connect with Lisa Scully-O’Grady on X and Instagram: @letters_home_again

If you’d like to see your writing appear in the Write On! Showcase, please submit your short stories, poetry or novel extracts to: pentoprint.org/get-involved/submit-to-write-on/

Hear extracts from Showcase in our podcast. Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo or find us on Spotify for Pocasters.

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