Starting over. Again.
Updated: Mar 28
An art apparent to others, I often practice with homes, furniture and vehicles.
But behind the scenes I’m in constant argument with self. Starting over with love.
I’ve worked hard over a short lifetime to love myself, as we all must. Starting over more times than I can count. Left ever trying new angles, new respects. Fitness, a side salad of pampering, and body art.
Struggling with acceptance of my weight as I grew into sexuality. Being called names like skeletor, and cruel metaphors comparing my body structure to a 2x4.
I was in loathing of my birthed form. I padded my bras and looked to diet pills because maybe then it would appear intentional. I was 13.
Years gone by, I was slowly accepting my weight - a humble smile anytime people told me “get some meat on your bones”.
Frustrated now, only with my weight limiting my strength. I looked to fitness and mass protein powders to gain weight. I did some, was excelling at the gym and genuinely enjoying the body I was cultivating. I was 27.
And then I separated my shoulder.
Hospital visits, physiotherapy, and endless massage appointments gave very little reward.
I’ve since gained 40 pounds. I have chronic pain, stretch marks, and limited sleeping positions.
Life. It sometimes gives you what you ask for, in a way you never expected.
So I trudge forward again through the alleyways of self loathing.
Failing at gym routines, healthy eating, and letting myself down on promises to take better care of self.
To keep trying.