PZI-A celebration

This morning as I pulled on my PZI jeans, I felt like celebrating
Celebrating the skin I live in, the curves I’ve been blessed with,
As the denim hugs my rounded hips, circles my waist, and clings to my thighs,
I envision myself a Nubian goddess rising proudly to show off a heaven-sent body,
As my custom made jeans stand up and testify to my womanhood.



This afternoon as I walked to lunch in my PZI jeans, I felt like celebrating,
Celebrating the fact that I am woman, strong and beautiful,
My jeans fit me like a second skin, accentuating every aspect of my feminine wiles;
While society may place boundaries on beauty, I am proof their boundaries are illogical;
My ample curves lead me as I boldly place one stiletto clad foot in front of the other.



This evening as I stepped out in my PZI jeans, I felt like celebrating,
Celebrating the euphoria on the dance floor, grooving in my dark denim;
Smiling to myself, I watch the brothas stare, hypnotized by my Perazzi clad assets,
With an extra bit of sass in my step, I stroll by, acknowledging their appreciation,
But undeterred, I keep moving ahead, knowing my true value lies within.



This night as I step out of my PZI jeans, I feel like celebrating;
Celebrating the secret the my ancestors passed down to me;
Leaving me and sistahs everywhere a legacy of strength, grace and internal beauty, that far outweighs our curvaceous figures;
A legacy that fills me with pride and challenges me daily to reach for the stars
I close my eyes knowing PZI is celebrating right along with me.

by Christal Jordan-Mims