Seasoned
She used to think she was too thin.
Probably because everyone referred
to her as skinny. Her older brother
called her bony butt, to her chagrin.
If.......if only the curves would come.
At sixteen they surreptitiously arrived.
Curves on curves that brought too
much unwanted and embarrassing
attention from the male population
to a shy young woman who was just
discovering how to ascertain who
she was and how she fit into the world.
While walking down the street, she
nearly jumped out of her skin, as a car
came up behind loudly honking at her.
Sometimes they even wildly leaned
out the window making lewd remarks.
Her brother finally had to cease calling
her bony butt. He changed it to Miss Priss.
Now looking back on those pure formative
years through a seasoned nostalgic glow,
a smile crosses aged lips when a horn honks.
© Connie Marcum Wong
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