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Not Putting Off the Natural Woman

By Kellie Purcill

natural woman pic

I had day surgery recently, and while the procedure itself went well, the post-operative pain medications didn’t work. They didn’t even touch the sides of what I was feeling, except to make everyone sound as if they were talking to me from a sealed spacesuit. It got to the point that I was pacing, panting with the ripping nerves and rolling pain, when the nurse took out my IV line, rang my friend to come collect me, and let me go home “since we can’t do anything else for you here. Make sure they know next time those meds don’t work on you.”

I don’t remember much of the trip home, because the natural woman I share my body with was counting down the minutes until I’d be behind my front door. And I’ll tell you what, that natural woman is LOUD.

But that natural woman also knows what’s she’s on about. For the previous hour she’d been growling “We need to have a shower. A really really HOT shower. We need to go home. To have a shower” constantly. It made no sense to me, but I could feel the gravity of the need crushing my bones, twanging along my gut and legs, her sure confidence soothing my intense, nauseous unhappiness. And as soon as I got in the shower, the mirror already blank, the air fogged, she and I both groaned – deep, guttural and grateful.

This is what I needed. The thought flopped, exhausted, out my ear and floated away down the drain as my eyes closed in weary relief. Sure, the scriptures say to put away the natural woman, but right now I love her beyond words and coherence.

I prayed, curled in on myself, cheek against the shower floor, thankful for my body, albeit rather critical of the particular design flaws involved in my pain, for instant hot water, overwhelmingly and repeatedly muttering thank you for my natural woman.

My natural woman demanded raspberries last week, for self-medication and reward after an emotionally gutting day. She also squealed when I was cleared to start running again, and her eyes roll back in delight when I moisturise. My natural woman tells the holy spirit to stuff it when my answers to prayer are decidedly sideways to what I wanted, screams stress into pillows and sulks before sidling up to God, kicking the ground and muttering “Sorry. I’m sorry. But it still sucks.”

My natural woman loves life, loves me, loves God as a result. She’s like hope – loud, wearing big boots and laughs like a waterfall falling on your head.

Do you listen to your body, to your natural woman? What makes your physical self happy, and does it make YOU happy as a result? Has there been something in your life lately that has made you thankful for having a physical self to wrap your self in?

About Kellie Purcill

lives way on the other side of the planet in her native Australia and gives thanks for the internet regularly. She loves books, her boys, panna cotta, collecting words, being a redhead and not putting things in order of importance when listing items. She credits writing as a major contributing factor to surviving her life with sanity mostly intact, though her (in)sanity level is subject to change without warning.

9 thoughts on “Not Putting Off the Natural Woman”

  1. Yes! Warm cardigans, delicious pumpkin chocolate desserts, stretching after sleep, and the miraculous relief I feel every time this tiny baby kicks me from deep inside. Also wind and sun on my face, followed by sweet kisses from my children and romantic and passionate ones from my husband. And foot massages!

  2. I feel my most primal and natural giving birth. When in labor, reason ceases to exist and I go deep into myself. I was living in Sweden when I had my fourth child. I had been studying Swedish very intensely and felt pretty confident about speaking Swedish exclusively. That is, until I hit about 7 cm dilation. The midwife was talking to me and the language part of my brain that knew and understood Swedish shut off because the natural woman had been activated and was too busy trying to birth a baby. In between contractions, I tried to articulate this to the midwife. I don't think I was very coherent, but at that point, she got it and we moved forward, where she very kindly spoke English to me as I grunted my responses back to her in the primal language of labor that is international and transcends time. I also know that during that time my body couldn't decide which temperature it wanted the room to be and I shouted out demands to turn the heat up to inferno temps or begged for the arctic zone.

  3. Oh, Kelli, thank you, what a beautiful post and how I love the replies! To this day I can remember those kicks inside my belly with joy and the ecstasy when each of my girls was born. And at the ripe age of 60 I am thankful about every other day that I am NOT morning sick today! I love my body and am so grateful it will go with me into the eternities (with a little tweaking).

  4. Yes! Hot running water on bare skin, the first peach of the season, sun on my face, walking without pain, orgasm, birthing (beautiful, Tiffany!), deep breathing, hugs, and strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. Every day, I thank God randomly for something I notice and love about the joy and privelege of having a body.

  5. Running. Labor. Birth. Floating. Playing the piano. Singing. The sensation of warm soup from my mouth to my gut. The feel of fire warming my skin, layer by layer. Yes. It is good to be in tune with my body and natural woman, but when I feel most alive is when my spirit and body, divine soul and fleshy natural woman connect in those activities.

  6. The texture of warm chocolate cake with ice cream on top, the hot and cold mixing so splendidly against the crumbs becoming smooth. The calming scent of Indian curry. Going to bed early. The warmth and calm of an infant sleeping on my chest. Knowing when labor has become the REAL THING, which both frightens and excites me before I get into the breathing-through-it mode.

    Beautiful post, Kel. Thank you.

  7. I read the first few lines of this and immediately thought of childbirth. I had two homebirths and one front seat of the van on the way to the hospital birth, and I have never appreciated and loved my body so much as when I look at my baby and think "I grew him. My body made every bit of him and now he has chubby thighs and fabulous cheeks because my breasts make milk to feed him!" Some of the most amazing, glorious experiences of my life are when I was handed a wet, wriggling brand new baby and brought them to my chest.

  8. Kel, I see you (and all of us ) as a beautiful blend of both the natural and spiritual woman. I love that you could recognize her voice in you – expressing needs. Needs that are expedient for our survival. She protects us, warns us, keeps us fed. And I also love that she likes to wear boots and eat raspberries. 🙂 (Been too long since I've heard about your boots.) How are you recovering? I read your comment on my blog about your week and the boys' week. Goodness. I love you. Thanks for, as always, such a thoughtful piece of writing. xoxo


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