The woman I want to be

I first met her within the pages of a book

From the first page, she had me on the hook

She promised satisfaction and delivered it on every turn

She was beautiful

As beautiful as a fourteen-year-old could see

Glorious even

Her moves were always calculated

Whatever words she spoke, she was making a point

Her stature

Well, don’t get me started on it

She had perfectly proportioned features

The very epitome of perfection

Her brain

Well endowed, her intellectual capacities found no match

Am sure if there had been IQ tests then,

she would be somewhere competing with Walter O’Brien

Her character

You could catch glimpses of it in every situation she found herself in

Was it the father insisting that she marry

Or the worker who often times got past the line,

She could be trusted to handle it gracefully

I knew then, that that is who I wanted to be,

when the time came for me to be a woman.

There was only one problem

Or is it three?

She had blue eyes, long hair and came from a very rich family

I on the other hand

Totally different story

Small black eyes that had no story to tell,

Short, kinky, African hair that refused to grow

And a family that knew wealth as a word in the dictionary

But I had hope

Hope that one day perhaps as I grew

My eyes would turn blue and my hair would grow long

My father would win the lottery or rob a bank

Then I would be on my way to becoming her

Then, suddenly

She was taken away from me

On that fateful night when I was found

Reading the book I was never supposed to touch

I did not even have the opportunity to see her meet prince charming

I knew not where the book was hidden

Not only was she gone in the book

She was gone from my mind somehow.

I proceeded and met many others that kept editing my dream

The independent career woman I met in a film

Always able to stand on her own

She could not stand to show weakness

She was a man of her own

She needed no man for whatever reason

I admired her for her strength

The boyish team captain I met in school

Who I had not even at first recognized as a woman

How she knew so much about cars and guns was beyond me

She was queer

But she was a thing of beauty

In her own way

The discontent mother of four

Always laboring to provide bread for them kids

And not forgetting to spare a few minutes to complain

About how unfair life always was

In a different world, I might have appreciated her strength

Only today I admired her

For the lesson of what not to turn out like

Print media and social media

All bombarded me with her

The perfect woman

Only the perfect woman was not the same in every instance

And I had to choose which one would be me

Or more accurately, which one I would become

In my quest to decide I analyzed them all

And found them lacking in something

Whether it was the over independence that became too unbearable

Or the complaints that never ended

Or the roughness that could never be pretty

There was something not there

So I made my own perfect woman

A cocktail of all those features

Independent, but just enough to be able to see the need for other people

Boyish, but just enough to maintain something feminine

Well informed, but not too much that it could be intimidating


Well you see, that was the hard part

Because how do you obtain the perfection of the first

When you know no plastic surgeon.

Rich family,

Again, there was a problem there

The solution could have well been applying for adoption

But I chose another way out

Accept it

Make a story out of it

So that when you become her, the perfect woman

Those looking to be like you

Will know that you have a story

So I did

But like the rest, she had her qualms

And unlike the rest, way too many

And so, just when I was languishing in the disappointment,

A broken heart and unachievable dreams,


She was different

I knew it.

Not like all the rest

True I might have met her within the pages of a book

But no book could possibly contain her

Not because she had any strength of her own

See, you need to see her for yourself

She does not always insist on her own way

Her husband trusts in her with his heart

For she is his glory

She is independently dependent

She does not shy away from working with her hands

She excels in whatever she does

She clothes herself in dignity and strength

So much they outshine any Versache or Gucci that she wears

Humility and gentleness, her crown

Love is ever flowing from her

She is Proverbs 31

She is because she is no more

She is not playing the background

Gone is her old self, replaced by another

She does not live, but He lives in her

Her focus is not earthly but eternal

I know she sounds alien

But that is only because she is.

She is Genesis to Revelation

She is who I long to be- the Biblical woman.

6 thoughts on “The woman I want to be

  1. Quite a smart piece. Use of a mix of complex sentences and simple sentences would make it more poetic and a little shorter. This piece can turn not only heads but hearts too.


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