There are currently tears streaming down my cheeks. Which is much less unusual than it used to be.
I used to be much more composed than this.
I think this is what happens when you are at odds with your body. Because the last time I cried this much was when I was a teenager coming to terms with the fact that I am fat.
A fact that society and my parents helped me to understand. I might not have gotten there on my own.
I've been thinking so much about bodies.
Women's bodies in particular.
How having them makes us liable to get yelled at, followed, and grabbed.
Even though we are built this way to create life.
My sister-in-laws (whom I love. Whom I consider to be more sisters than in-laws because they make my brothers so happy that I would thank them every day if I could without making it weird) have made, or are making, life.
Little faces that have my brothers expressions. Little hands that grab mine. Little hearts that live in my heart.
My body could do that too. That's why I get called at, followed, complimented in vulgar ways even though I am still fat. (and some ways still that teenager realizing she's fat)
But I would rather it didn't. I would be no good for that little body that would come from my body.
So I take a daily pill.
To prevent the making of life.
But, oh, what it does to my body.
Now my body is bigger, and more sensitive.
And it makes tears all the time. For extended periods of time. Sometimes over nothing.
Sometimes at the worst times.
In public,
In front of my boyfriend,
At work.
So I went to the doctor to try to make a change.
I made myself even more vulnerable
And now I know that my body is also infected
Its "abnormal"
So I have to go back and let the doctor open me wider and look closer
And now I'm terrified of this body and what it could do to me
Is it because you know that I hate you? That I wish you looked like other bodies?
Is it because I made all those jokes about you, terrified that they would be made behind my back if I didn't?
I want to love you. I do.
But society says no.
And because of you I get yelled at, followed, and (statistically) probably one day grabbed.
I should care for you because our government does not
But you don't feel like mine
If anything, I am yours
You call the shots, bring the tears, and cause monthly pain that makes me double over and bite through my lip
Today I'm crying.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Maybe one day I'll figure out how to love you the way they tell me I should
Maybe one day I'll get rid of the fat or learn to love it
I know for certain that if I every do decide to make a new life, I will teach self-love first and always
I will help bridge the gap between my baby and their body and I will arm them with the power to see beauty in themselves as much as in others
