The Pressure Points of Bone

As I search for the muscle to massage, my fingers can’t help but be interrupted by bone. For there is no muscle on this body, only loose skin surfacing the bone. Emaciated bodies do not appeal to me. Yet they are the Vogue of my mind. As thin women walk down the street I notice my mind start to silently spit at them with thoughts of envy and accusations. " How lucky she must be never having to count calories!" or “How easy she must have it, while she slips everything on in the dressing room!” or “What great at sex she must be for she can ride on top and do it in the full light!”
Like the obsessed Frodo, salivating for the ring, I used to pray every day, asking God to remove my hunger or magically take away my belly bulge! I used to wonder what karma I must be living out with this body and wish for the gift of being thin in my next life.
The gift of being thin. This really is an object. It is the egregore of today. The WMDs that all are looking for but only few find and when they do find them they create massive destruction. Killing the inner spirit of children and polluting the standards of beauty. It has taken on a whole new shape, all the pun intended, in our societies twisted and narrow, yes, a pun again, mind or lack of. For when you are starving, your brain does not seem to function as well.
We see thin as in, even though we have to squint to get a glimpse of what we are looking at. I used to think thin people were strong willed, disciplined, and at the same time carefree and lucky. How happy and free would I be if the fluctuations and calculations of weight were not on the forefront of my mind? How much more work I would get done and how rich would I be! What would my world be like if I did not think about weight? I would save hundreds of dollars and save hours spent obsessing, crying, and eating away my struggles. I would swim more and have sex more and audition more. The world would be my oyster and I wouldn’t have to eat it!
I used to think skinny was IT until, I could not find the a pressure point. There are no pressure points in bone! There is no muscle to hold up the skin that creates a curve or a wave of what created masterpieces by artists over centuries. There is nothing to hold on to when the room is cold and the heart needs a friend. There is no conversation over the what cheese pairs best with this chocolate or wine, for these bones do not know cheese. Nor do they know taste. They have been deprived from their senses, cut off from nutrition and held captive before the ego of restraint.
Have you ever touched a thin person. I mean skinny. I mean boney, meatless, maybe with an eating disorder, maybe not. Maybe through genetic-karma or maybe through natzie discipline. Regardless of the circumstances, have you ever held bone? Well, try massaging it. Try cuddling up next to it. Try eating next to it. It ain’t easy.
I was giving a facial to an emaciated woman one night, and as my fingers searched for places to go, my head became clouded with horrible visions of starving children in 3rd world countries. It does not look good. It might look good covered with Versace, but it does not feel good. And I can assure you it does not taste good. The bone was hard and the skin draped over it like polyester on an iron fence. I pulled and dug, searching for the tension, searching for some meat to mold my healing fingers into and found nothing. Finally I found something. For the sake of comparison, imaging a Turkey leg at the State Fair and a frog leg at the little restaurant in Louisiana. The meat from the frog leg that I found was jaw tension .It must have been from something, for it sure as hell wasn’t from eating. You know how sore your jaw gets when you are gnawing on beef jerky or frantically eating away your pains with nuts? I know that feeling all too well. But, this was unlike anything I have touched before. This was like teeth gnawing at teeth, bone devouring bone. For in my mind that is what I imagined her binge to be. Mental mirages where grinding the teeth to air is like a cheeseburger in paradise.
When you have no fat, you have no support, no leverage. Its like missing protein in a meal, you get hungrier sooner than later. Well I was hungry for a body. A life. All I saw were bones and a big head on top. The sagging breasts were the least of my worries. There was nothing to hold on to, no curves to gaze at, no ass to sit on. The front looked like slate rock covered with some pubic leaves and the back was like 1970’s drapes hanging from the ceiling. Men don..t want that. They want an animal not a coat-wrack. Botechelli not PeeWee Herman. They want an ass to grab on to, breasts to pull and tug, a belly to see. Men are scientists, they want to know that when you eat, the food goes somewhere. Here I could only see the food in two places, in the toilet or locked in the fridge.
That was the other thing. I open the fridge and find pizza, peanut butter, cheese, chips, meats, chocolates, all stuffed, I mean stuffed to the point that it was difficult to shut the door. The fridge had not been cleaned out since Twiggy came to New York and it smelled like the kitchen of a highschool cafeteria. How? Why? How? How is it possible for a refrigerator to be so full and a body to be so void?
I finished the massage, said my goodbyes and spent my drive home digging deep with in myself. As I took off my clothes I thanked every inch, nook and cranny of my body, climbed in bed, grabbed my big ass, held onto my boobs and thanked my tummy for coloring my life with tastes! The Birth of Venus is my new mental image, not Victoria Secret adds!

She seemed weak, vulnerable, penetrable, fragile.
All qualities I detest and try to never take on for myself.
Weak turns into strong.
Vulnerable turns into confident.
Penetrable turns into self assured
Fragile turns into indestructible

But its actually the opposite.
This food that makes up my body is feeding exactly what is starving her.
This food feeds my weakness, my vulnerability, my fragility.
I must find a way to trust that with or with out the weight I am strong, I am confident, I am self assured, I am indestructible.
For my body is a direct representation of what my mind is.

So instead of running my body at the gym in order to get fit, I need to run my mind in acceptance and love to get strong.

When I am thin, I am strong.
When I am fuller, I am strong.

When I see the lesson, the beauty, the fragility, the truth in situations like tonight, I am strong, for I just discovered the right pressure points for my body; my own; muscle, not bone!

The Pressure Points of Bone


Joined January 2008

  • Artist
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