This Alien Thing

Content Warning: body image & disordered eating

This body is not mine. 

This body, with thighs that touch and a soft tummy is not mine. 

This body cannot be mine. 

My body has a gap where my thighs should meet, a flat tummy that does not wobble when poked. 

My body has hip bones that protrude out, cutting sharp figures in my hands as I hold them at night.

My body has narrow shoulders, a flat chest and wrists I can wrap an entire hand around with room to spare. 

My body takes up as little space as possible. 

This body I used to be afraid of owning has taken over my entire being, eclipsing that version of myself with its viscous shadow. 

This body cannot be mine. 

This body is not mine. 

This unpredictable vessel, with no patterns or rationales, is not mine. 

This body cannot be mine.

My body is under my control: feed it well, rest it and care for it, and it will do as I expect it to. 

My body is not this volatile shell, lashing out at me for treating it with contempt and giving me questions with no answers. 

My body does not evade my understanding, does not present problems with no discernible solutions. 

My body gives me predictability and invincibility. 

This body that I have beaten down with restriction, that I have prodded and poked with disdain and stuffed full through compulsion and rebellion, is threatening a mutiny. 

This body cannot be mine.

And yet this body, all softness and vulnerability, belongs to me now.

My body has been touched so gently, trails of gold dust shimmer against my skin as it quivers and sighs in contentment.

My body has allowed me to be held by arms so tightly, so securely, that comfort and pure wonder flood my veins where blood should be.

My body, this alien thing, has allowed me to feel pleasure so divine, it wracks my entire being and makes me whimper in awe.

My body has allowed me to dance with careless abandon and laugh with my mother.

My body has allowed me to run half-clothed into the icy-cold sea with my sister, just to celebrate seeing another year together.

My body has allowed me to take in some of the most enchanting sights the world has to offer.

My body has allowed me to hold my loved ones in my arms and squeeze them so tightly, any question of my affection dies on their lips before it has even had time to form.

My body should be loved, cherished and cared for in the most tender way.

My body is doing everything it knows how to do, with all I have given it.

I will thank my body for all it gives me, and try to love it, even when it feels impossible.

This body is mine.