Reading over my poetry from yesteryear has reminded me just how utterly anxious and obsessed I was with my body in the absolute worst way. My body never came close to being good enough. My body was the reason why people hated me, the reason why I hated myself, the reason why I deserved that self-hatred. In a way, my body was the vessel to which I could pour every ounce of anger and insecurity I had within me because there was never any doubt in my mind that it deserved all of it.

But…

The reason why the body insecurity poetry stuck out to me on this reread was because it’s not there anymore. I read The Good Body by Eve Ensler in college and I desperately yearned for the kind of self-acceptance it modeled. But I wasn’t there yet.

But I got there eventually.

As equal parts apology, acknowledgement, and wonder, I want to say a few things about my body. All of them are way overdue.

My feet

My size 10Ws stand firm on the ground. I take my feet to get pedicures and love trying out new colors. My feet get cold a lot so I dress them in fluffy socks and cover them with blankets to keep them nice and toasty. My feet have walked me away from every bad situation I have ever been in.

My legs

My legs are muscular and they love to walk. I walk around malls because I love malls and their pretzel stores. They take me to the mailbox to pick up all the junk mail. I work them out on treadmills while I talk to my workout partner because treadmills are so utterly boring. My legs curl up underneath me on the couch when I get comfy. They hold my laptop when I type at home. They might not go out late dancing, but when I go to sleep at night, they complete the ball I contort myself into so I can drift off to sleep.

My hips

My hips rock a bodycon dress with the best of them. I lean a hip against a wall when talking to someone at a party. I place my hands on my hips when chatting, thinking, walking, sometimes just for fun. I love the way a pair of Torrid jeans feel when I zip them up and get ready to go. My hips love to talk but all they have to say is sass.

My stomach

I have a red dragon tattoo on the right side of my stomach that has been stretched out by the sheer amount of times I have lost and gained massive amounts of weight. 70 lbs there, 100 lbs here, who’s counting?

But that dragon? She is beautiful and she is proud and she has had so many transformations and has been steadfast through every single one of them. The stretch marks that mar her are testimonies to the way my body has bent and stretched and never broken.

My breasts

I adore my breasts. I had them reduced once when I managed to lose weight literally everywhere except my chest and suddenly I was so top heavy my back would ache every day. I like to say they were handcrafted from a master surgeon and she did an amazing job.

My arms

My arms have held my husband, my cats, groceries, laundry, a dozen things I shouldn’t have tried to carry in one trip. My arms are strong and capable and I will always try to carry too many things because I often surprise myself with how much I can cram in there before I drop something.

My hands

They type endlessly. For work, for fun, to run a household, to play video games. I used to think my fingers were too big and chunky. But willowy-fingered women never challenge me to thumb wars for good reason. My fingers have written more words than I am prepared to calculate and I am humbled by their dedication.

My head

There are always so many things going on in there it’s a wonder I can ever get anything done. It’s been strange I realize that I am actually neurotypical and no longer mentally ill. Which basically means I’m kind of just weird.

But my brain has thought my way out of so many awful situation, entertained me, kept my safe when my world was too dangerous. These days, the only thing dangerous about it is when it’s faced with a problem and the wheels start spinning and I will have an answer soon. Probably more than one.

Thank you

In 2009 I overdosed in a suicide attempt on such a large quantity of medication a doctor said afterward he had no idea how I was still alive. I was suffering so much I did not want to be here anymore and my body didn’t give up on me. Wouldn’t let me give up. I didn’t know why, I couldn’t even begin to ponder the reason at the time.

It has seen me through every dark day, every victory, and everything in between. I thought it was my enemy for so many years. But now I finally see, my body is my partner and we navigate the world together.

Everyone who sells something is willing to tell me how my body is wrong and wild and needs this product to act right. But my body has been everything I have ever needed. Even when I didn’t love it, even when I tried to hurt it, it was always steadfast, patient, and silently waiting for the day I stopped fighting it and saw it for everything it has done for me.

I love my body. I owe it so much. I can’t wait to see where my body and I go, because I have a lot of plans for the future and we will be together every step of the way.