my body has betrayed me.
i guess it was just a matter of time. all the years of disordered eating. all the caffeine and so little sleep. playing medication roulette.
i didn’t learn to love my body until someone else did.
i didn’t learn to love my body until i gained 80 pounds in a matter of months. the stretch marks reminded me of the razor blade scars that had faded over the years. they were beautiful in a doomed sort of way.
i finally learned to love my body: a conglomeration of stories and side effects and sin. i loved my body because and in spite of its usefulness. i loved my body when no one else was looking.
i made peace.
here i am now, entrusted with the work of destroying this body i have learned to love. shrinking it into something i won’t recognize. refusal to comply resulting in life cut shorter.
how do i justify the metamorphosis of my body with my feminism?
what do you do when your body betrays you?