This Is My Body

This is my body.

This is my head, with its racing thoughts and occasional migraines; my short hair and pointy ears.

These are my blue eyes, weak and oblong, but able to see – and see so much more than average.

These are my lips, that chap for no clear reason but form the words I use to live.

This is my face, pretending to be a decade younger than it is, showing character and wisdom.

This is my jaw, that grinds during my sleep.

This is my neck, that tightens, burns and pulls while it holds my head high, as well it should.

These are my shoulders, pointy with torn rotator cuffs. They bear the weight of my world.

These are my arms, long and thin, capable.

These are my hands, dexterous and strong. They can gently cradle a rose, can destroy any number of things.

This is my chest, containing my heart. My heart had floundered as a child, but now runs strong. It beats with my thoughts, beliefs, age, and love.

This is my stomach, flat and tan – a betrayer of nature, it does not always want its feed, and knows better than my brain when I am stressed.

This is my spine, strained and compressed. It keeps me straight, tall, and true.

These are my hips, burning but fluid. They swirl when I dance and give out when I walk.

This is my vagina, a bringer of pleasure but yet another betrayer as the years have gone on, having needed surgery twice.

These are my thighs, muscular but small. They clench when I dance and burn and are weak when I walk.

These are my knees, popping and sore, able to bend while I sway with music.

These are my calves, familiar with shin splints, strong and true on long walks.

These are my feet, tiny and delicate with long, monkey toes.

I’ve hated this body when I’ve felt it’s betrayed me. My sharp elbows that jab into door jambs and bruise for the smallest of reasons, my back that screams when I sit down.

But this is my body. This is the body I’ll take to my grave. Being angry with it accomplishes nothing.

Loving it, accepting my body for all of its strengths and weaknesses is all that matters.

There should be no shame at being thinner than average. There should be no pride in an unintentional thigh gap.

There should be nothing but me.

This is my body.

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