Short Plays on Reproductive Freedom by Cindy Cooper

Author:Cindy Cooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Words of Choice, Inc
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

SECTION FOUR: BODY POLITICS

Originally directed by Atonia Pettiford

On The Brink of Middle Age by Yvette Heyliger

The Goddess of Hygieia by Michael angel Johnson

Useless Uterus by Anne Flanagan

Chained Labor by Mildred Lewis

The Prisoner by Ellen Cohen

ON THE BRINK OF MIDDLE AGE

by Yvette Heyliger

ABOUT THE PLAY:

“On the Brink of Middle Age” explores the mixed emotions of a woman entering a new stage of life and who, in a flash of insight, reclaims and redefines womanhood in the new millennium.

A solo work, it was performed by the writer at the Reproductive Freedom Festival

On the Brink of Middle Age

I am forty-nine today and I admit it: I am slowly losing my “friend.”

My great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mother, all lost their “friends!” The Change of Life is a process that can spread over 13 years the doctor said. I don’t know how to respond; what to think of this impending loss; how to handle being, peri-menopausal.

I see my daughters blossoming into womanhood a blossoming that started with: first steps, first words, first foods, first relaxers, bras, menstrual periods, “mother-daughter” talks, proms, high school and college graduations, first afros, gynecological visits, birth control, boyfriends—girlfriends—then boyfriends again, first engagement… what’s left?

Marriage, then… grandchildren!

Time is marching on. No longer blossoming, I am plucked—well plucked, in fact. I am all rusting pipes and mixed metaphors about getting older. Thank God, I am a woman of color. We hold up well. Comments from admirers bear this out: “Girl, you don’t look like you have a daughter in college,” or my favorite, “You two could be sisters!”

These statements hold some comfort for me, sure. But the truth is, I’m forty-nine and spreading, and on the brink of what? Saying goodbye to my monthly “friend” and hello too…

• Having hot flashes, night sweats and dizzy spells

• Adding invisible bifocals to my eye-glass prescription

• Dying persistent and increasingly grey hairs, black

• Getting three discrete tracks of hair sewn into my scalp to make up for the inevitable hair loss

• Propping up my sulking breasts in a padded bra

• Covering the “muffin top” that hangs over my belted pants with a loose fitting cotton shirt, or worse

• Stuffing myself into a girdle, hoping to recreate some semblance a waistline no longer there

• Wearing sensible shoes with orthotics

• Resurrecting some childhood trauma that I am told I am now old enough to handle emotionally

• Taking estrogen or calcium supplements

• Wondering at what point a lubricant will become necessary for sex!

I’m on the brink of a new stage of life. Lucky me! I used to be cute. I used to be charming. I used to be funny. I used to be skinny. That’s right—had to wear men’s jeans. You know why? No ass and no hips. And my breasts, like a Las Vegas show girl—each one could fill a champagne glass. I was The Girl from Ipanema. (She sings.) “Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking…” I sunbathed nude on rooftops in Barcelona under the watchful eyes of orange-clad monks who should have been chanting.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.