Even early me wanted to walk in back of me. I wondered about all degrees of me.
Contorted view from a video, photo and mirror do not suffice.
It is nice to know my chin but why not my nape? I want to see firsthand how my hair landscapes and escapes.
I would stand and look down at the top of my head as if it were a bush. A new perspective on the full outer body me.
An x-ray exposed parts inside me; that was interesting to see. But what about the curves and planes of me?
What is my stride, I want to see. It would be fun to detail the soles of my feet – down where the plantar fascia pain seeps. Do the sole creases mirror those of my palm? What stories hide there?
And what about behind my knee?
No one can tell me about the rest of me; I want to see.
How I look in jeans and more. Am I really neat? What about that seat? Why can’t I see the folds where the buttocks tuck and find my thighs? And while I am at it, why not that great channel between what I daily know but have never truly seen.
I would scrutinize the vertebrae one by one as they interlock through the tree. Latissimus dorsi, trapezius, rhomboids, majors and minors that flex and extend. And what about those erectors. Structures critical to be me.
I want to examine the lower back scar from the morning the maple tree grew sick of me.
Things that make me unique.
I know it is ordained not to see. Don’t think badly of me. I really treasure what I can see. Still, how I would love to celebrate all 360 degrees of me.