I like my body.

But sometimes I wish
I could remold my fleshy fat body
like playdough.
Of course, this would only work
if I were a sculptor.

I’m not.

Perhaps if we were playdough people
there would be molds one could buy.
Empty negatives that would press
and squeeze until one fit
the manufactured, predetermined shape.
But then
we’d be cookie cutter playdough people,
everyone the same.
Forcing ourselves into bodies that aren’t ours
and wearing faces that
some mold-maker
somewhere
decided was more beautiful
than my real face.

I think I’d rather stick
with my flesh and fat and blood and bone body that,
for the most part,
I like.