(Note: This post is part of Five Minute Fridays and is part of an unedited writing exercise. Visit the site after the post for more information.)
“Bare”–such a short, bare word. Its connotations can be positive, as in a baby’s bare bottom. (Perhaps I’m conditioned to that one having just visited newborn twins!) But it can also reflect more negative musings. “Bare” immediately conjures for me the experience of staring into the magnifying mirror (always a bad idea, ladies!) and seeing my bare, rough, red skin. All I see are flaws. My face, what the world first sees, looks like the surface of the moon–full of craters and bumps, an uneven surface that the Rover (is that the thing’s name?) cruising around on the moon would find provides a jarring, jolting ride. I too feel jolted when I’m forced to look into that mirror to “put on my face” for the day. (Now, isn’t that just the opposite of being bare?) We (at least I) so want to appear acceptable to the world–not ugly, old, and fading, not defective. Such a fixation seems to reveal an inner bareness, a bareness of soul. If I were just good enough, if I were flawless, if I were more like everyone else, outwardly at least, then I’d not expend time and energy on trying to patch over my flaws, facial and otherwise. Why, oh why, couldn’t I have my mother’s porcelain skin, not my father’s ruddy exterior? I hope I’m more like her on the inside, where it really counts. “Bare” also makes me think of people–the rare ones—I can get truly bare–as in “naked” with–emotionally. I don’t care if they see me in all my “morning glory” because I know that they love me and accept me anyway, just as our Saviour accepts me–”Just As I Am,” to use the words of that old hymn. I feel “bare” writing this for all to see…
STOP! Time’s up–no editing allowed.
Join in at Lisa-Jo Baker’s site: Five Minute Friday: Bare.