Wobbly Bits

She’d been a little short of cash,
And saw the advert, feeling rash
She’d called the number,
Volunteered.
It was as strange
As she had feared.
The students came in twos and threes,
Here to paint her knocking knees,
And curly hair
And wobbly bits,
And great big, sagging, ageing tits.
We’re ready.
Said the lecturer,
Who really had been kind to her.
He’d fed her biscuits,
Poured her tea,
Made sure she had been for a wee.
But now the time had come at last,
Where she must bare her bottom (vast)
And step out of her pantyhose,
And put her body out on show.
She slipped away behind a screen,
So her undressing went unseen,
So no one saw her slip and fumble,
No one heard her quietly mumble
Why oh why… Why am I here?
Her stomach tied in knots of fear.
She undressed quickly as she could,
Before she knew it, there she stood,
As naked as her day of birth,
Expecting giggles, fits of mirth,
As she sat astride the chair,
Self-consciously smoothing her grey hair.
But no one laughed or raised a smile
They simply sat and stared a while,
Then lifted pens, or a well worn brush,
And slowly she could feel the flush
Of horror that had scarred her face,
Retreating, gone, without a trace.
She realised soon, that as their muse,
She had no dignity to lose.
She was just knees and arms and tits.
They liked to sketch her wobbly bits.
They thought her interesting, not old,
And loved the stories told by folds.
The grey hairs and the pocks and marks,
Each one, a perfect work of art.
They loved her, and they let her know
By putting on a public show.
She bought a piece, and now her face,
Sits just above her fireplace.

wobbly bits - a poem by pooky

Today’s prompt was to write a poem in which someone takes their clothes off for an unusual reason.

 

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This entry was posted in Frivolity and Frippery, Life Lessons, Story Poems and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

15 Responses to Wobbly Bits

  1. Lucid Gypsy says:

    Absolutely brilliant, thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. CC Champagne says:

    This is just so lovely, and reminds me very much of one of my favourite films, Shirley Valentine, where in one scene middle-aged Shirley has sex for the first time ever with someone other than her husband. This new lover leans over and kisses her stretch marks… Shirley exclaims with shock ‘He kissed my stretch marks!’ and the man says something along the lines of the stretch marks being a part of what makes her a woman to be desired… Ahhh… I wish we could all just get over ourselves and be beautiful just the way we are… *sigh* I wish I could hold on to that feeling myself for more than a second at a time… Anyway, beautiful writing, lovely story! You are a star!

    Liked by 3 people

  3. colonialist says:

    Really good! Congratulations!

    Like

  4. Pooky, this is wonderful. The rhythm, rhyme, joy, fear, reality… A wonderful snippet of life. I’m so pleased she chose to buy one of the paintings.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Fantastic! The Shirley Valentine reference is so apt. We take ourselves and our ‘bits and tits’ so seriously. A lovely reminder to let it all hang out. And get on with the important stuff. Not that I’ll be volunteering any time soon. 😉 x

    Like

  6. jfb57 says:

    I tried to post this last evening but ….! I love this and totally agree with CC that we women should be proud of all our bits – wobbly or not. As for me I must stop breathing in to make myself look slimmer!

    Like

  7. topazo says:

    this is beautiful pooky

    Like

  8. wbdeejay says:

    This story poem is just perfect.

    Like

  9. Wonderful rhyming, especially (vast)!

    Like

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