Tagged body image

A Note to My Boyfriend, My Compadre: I Am Beautiful.

Dear X, I’m sad in our relationship right now. I’m sad you don’t like my body. I’m still learning to like my body after years of hating it. Loathing it. Wanting to mutilate it. Agonizing over it. And I’m not sure we’re in a healthy space because of your disinterest or desire for my body to look like something other than what it is. This scares me and scars me. What might be worse is that your interest in me sexually had declined. I cannot look like those girls who you watch get fucked day after day. I will not…

Good Girls

My hips, they extend outwards in imitation of the horizon believing they will be welcomed like the morning sun signaling the beginning of a brand new day— They are not.   My belly, it extends forward and under filled with excitement to be part of the world bouncing happily along as if constantly waving to those passing thinking it will be met with the same cordiality— It is not.   My thighs, they rustle together making me chafe as I walk to class—or anywhere really—thinking the constant “swish-swish” friction of fabric is like the chatter of gossiping friends whose conversation…