Your body is a temple. You hear that so often these days, donít you? But does anyone really believe it? I mean, do they really follow that philosophy to the fullest extent and meaning of the words? Do they even grasp the real depth of those words?
Think about it. Youíve got some health nut. He goes to the gym every day, drinks his eight glasses of water a day, doesnít smoke, doesnít drink, and doesnít eat red meat. Only lean, white meat for him, no skins on my chicken please. He eats his veggies. He runs three miles a day on top of going to the gym. He even goes so far as to buy skin care products and washes his face more religiously than most women do so that his skin is young and healthy looking. And then, after all that, he goes to a strip joint, picks out a girl, buys himself a lap dance, most often afterwards finding someplace to do the horizontal shuffle and then goes home, falls in bed and zones out until the next morning. Thatís how you treat a temple?
Then thereís me. Iím not a health nut by any stretch of the imagination. I love chocolate and I eat it religiously. It is my manna, it is my blessed wafer. Water? Only as a last resort. Give me a Pepsi or a Coke any day. Sugary caffeinated carbonated nectar. Thatís what Iím talking about. Give me red meat, give me full fat, skin on, dripping in gravy chicken, mashed potatoes and, oh, sure, throw a side of corn bread on in there. Starch, and carbs, and sugar, oh my! I donít watch my weight. I have other people who are kind enough to do that for me. I donít monitor what I eat, I have friends that tell me what Iím eating as I stuff another forkful in my mouth. I think they figure theyíll guilt me in the suddenly seeing the light and becoming one of them. Like the fucking Borg. Not this chickie, no way. Iím a name, not a number. 7 of 9 never did anything for me anyway.
Now, this isnít to say that I havenít taken a stab and the healthy life, but it doesnít suit me. And I look in the mirror and I like what I see. Yeah, Iím overweight. Yeah, my hair has been dyed every box color that those people can make (and let me tell you, they make A LOT). Sure, Iíll wake up with dark circles under my eyes from drinking too late, partying too hard and fucking my brains out, but damn if I didnít have a good time. And to me, thatís what that phrase means. Your body is a temple. Because, to me, itís not just the physical outside thatís the temple. Itís everything. Every muscle, every bone, every cell, every blood vessel. Theyíre all parts of the whole. And the most important parts are the heart, the mind and the soul, at least in my opinion. And if you can do right by those three parts, everything else will show it. In my mind, Iíve accepted who and what I am and what I look like, and that makes my heart content because I can love myself, and because I can love myself, I have satisfaction in my soul. And because of that satisfaction in my soul, people look at me, and say to me, ďDamn, girl, how can you be glowing after the night we had last night?Ē And I just smile, ďCause I know a secret.Ē And life has been good, at least it was good, until the night someone came along and decided to be a gate crasher. The night someone knocked me off my game and now, I canít find that balance again.
It was going to be a good night. I knew it. I was looking good and I was feeling great. I had my tightest jeans with an awesome flare at the ankles, high heels, and a low cut top that hugged my curves and proved that real women have curves damn it. Makeup was applied, jewelry was donned and out the door we went to the club to dance, sing, drink, and, gods yes, ogle the beautiful people. We laughed at the women who were acting like giggly school girls just so they could gain the attention of one man. We watched as women tried to seduce the bouncer into letting them in without paying the cover. We watched the men surveying the women and splitting up the bar into sections amongst themselves so that they didnít step on each others territory. And we danced. We danced so hard youíd swear we were auditioning for a part in A Chorus Line. And it was fabulous. I felt good. And when closing time came, and I burst out into the night air, laughing and singing and riding the high of being beautiful and desirable, I was on top of the world.
I was so on top of the world that I never heard him coming. I was trying to open my car door, being that my vision was a little fuzzy from one shot too many, and my senses were off. I never knew he was there until it was too late. His hand was over my mouth, he was dragging me to the alley between the bar and the restaurant next door. I was fighting, kicking, trying to scream, but nothing was working. Damn he was strong. Then I saw the knife. ďNot a sound or I kill you, got it, bitch?Ē It was the last thing I heard. I went deaf and mute. I didnít hear anything but his panting and I didnít see anything but that knife. Stranger still, I didnít feel anything either. I donít know how long it took, and I donít know how long I was lying on the ground amidst the garbage of the alley before I finally braved getting up and driving myself to the hospital. I was in a fog for days.
Even now, three weeks later, Iím still off my game. I havenít been out to a club since. I donít get all dressed up. Hell, I barely get dressed at all except to go to work. And when I look in the mirror now, I look old, tired and worn. I donít feel young and vibrant and beautiful anymore. I donít look at myself after Iíve gotten dressed and tell myself, ďGo get Ďem gorgeous, knock Ďem dead.Ē In fact, most of the time, I change my clothes five times before I find something thatís appropriately covering. That hides my curves and my form and what I once thought was sexy. You see, on the outside, the temple looks the same. Nothing changed, no visible marks or scars, but on the inside, things are a wreck. My mind is unsettled and I donít know who I am anymore. My heart breaks because I canít find love for myself after what happened. And my soul cries out for justice and all itís hearing is the echo of its own screams because the temple is emptyÖ.the altar candles are dark....and the sanctity of the halls are ruined.