Dear Body

Dear Body,

I am trying to remember the last time I said, “I love you.”

This morning, I walked around my room. Naked.

I scooped up my stomach fat and traced the curve jutting under my ribs.

I traced the collarbones that stuck out above asymmetrical breasts.

There are constellations dotting my arms, with a Starry Night of pimples on my back.

My thighs dimpled and rippled with motion.

It is a wonder I have yet to recognize.

I am an artist who strives to find the beauty in everything but myself—and most importantly,

You.

One day, I’ll paint you in my sketchbook.

Not the way I am taught to see it.

Not the way I am shamed for it.

Simply its rolls and its dimples all in being.

Sincerely,

Ambar