I am not what my body looks like I am not the size of thighs, thick like tree trunks as my father would say the soft yielding cellulite on the sides of my hips the way the fat in my calves expand onto each other when I cross my legs I am not the way […]
I am not what my body looks like
I am not the size of thighs, thick like tree trunks as my father would say
the soft yielding cellulite on the sides of my hips
the way the fat in my calves expand onto each other when I cross my legs
I am not the way my chins double or triple when I look down
the way the skin of my stomach creases and folds over my fat
the color of my thighs ruddy red ready after a romp
the way my hips carve the air and pave the way
creating roads the landmarks in the snow
my arms stretchmarked sigh squishing onto my sides
I am big butts only to the extent that I raise my spirit to say
“But I am a human, not a piece of meat, and not an animal”
I am the talking bellybutton that tells you my
size is not a measure of my self-worth
the way the flab flops up and down delights my purpose
the loose skin is the evidence of my survival
I am not what my body looks like
my health has nothing to do with my size
the number of the scale scratchmarks meaningless
I am feeling heart fiery beating
love
I am warrior
nothing less
and much much more
and much much more
Sui Solitaire is a writer, artist, and lover of beings. She also writes fiction and photographs the love she sees in the world, among many other things.
[Originally published on karinachronicles.com in Nov 2012]