Overwhelmingly touched by all the responses, on the blog, on twitter, in private, to my post about my body. So full, my heart overflows with love and compassion for so many of us that have been hurt and scarred and molded by the shoulds and supposed-to-bes.
I have been living in this skin for nearly 33 years, and I have never really looked at myself. Too fat, too scared, too ugly, too afraid of what I’d find.
Yesterday, I did. I stopped hiding from myself. I took out my mirror and my camera and photographed the miracle I call home, this body I find myself growing to know – and more, to love.
And here I am.
Curled up on the couch; I love sitting like this.
My breasts and arm.
My non-striped, boot-ill-fitting legs.
And my face. Just my face, just as I look all the time. Messy hair, not posed, not faking a smile, not using the ever-so-flattering-and-popular MySpace angle.
I am awed by my body. Such a perfect flawless machine, such a beautiful vessel for spirit. My heart beats, my lungs fill and empty, my muscles respond. I blink. I eat and I poop. I cast circle, moving without thinking, letting magick fill my body.
So long neglected, so long unheard. So long have I feared and hated it, tried to squish it into the One True Shape™, betrayed it, and generally been utterly horrible to it.
Now, I will love it. Now, I will learn to work in harmony with my body, to more fully integrate, to stop punishing myself for not fitting into mainstream in yet another way. I don’t beat myself up for being gay or for being a Witch, so no more beating myself up for being fat.
It’s like a rhinoceros trying to be a unicorn. No matter how hard she diets or runs on a treadmill, it won’t work; she’ll always be the shape she is – and that’s perfect for a rhino.
My shape is perfect for me. Now, in this moment and in every moment, my shape is perfect.
And so is yours.