Naked

Tuesday night I photographed myself naked.

So often these days I do not have the courage to say what I am feeling

and Tuesday night I felt.

Profoundly felt.

And like a child with a security blanket,

I ran behind my camera.

It’s almost as though I was thinking that if I closed my left eye

and squinted through the camera’s tiny window

I would be able to see clearly the tiny, microscopic reasons

that explain why the world is

the way it is.

But all I saw were unfinished crafts and a pulled out futon.

What if I stood in front of the camera, however?

Would it see me?

So I shed my clothes

like how the rain washes chalk from a blacktop

and tried not to shield myself with each flash of the camera.

I didn’t feel naughty.

I didn’t feel sexy or scandalous

more like frantic to uncover the mystery of my own body.

My fingers danced from pointer,

to middle,

to ring,

to pinky

as I tapped them with impatience,

the images downloading one by one.

They were not beautiful.

In fact, some were so ugly I could hardly stare at them

without itching to move them to the little trash icon.

But I forced myself to look,

and some caught my eye…

The one where my skin hangs off my shoulder blades like deformed angle wings.

The pattern of the pale, pink stretch marks encircling my wide hips like constellations.

The roundness of my stomach, how it stood out farther than what one could consider “simply curvy”.

I am not thin.

Once upon a time I was,

but now my body tells the story of a girl that swallowed pills to make her happy, sacrificing that size 2 waist with each capsule.

It tells the story of a girl who found comfort in the sensation of particularly delicious sweetness’s on the tongue.

That’s been whispered about

and been told straight to her face

that she was fat

and ugly

and must have no self-worth.

To lose the weight…

I wish it were that easy.

But, the funny thing is, I think what struck me the most was what I did not see in those pictures.

I didn’t see how, when it comes to my favorite color, it’s a pretty even tie between

yellow

and

green.

I didn’t see how much I love rainy days

with a good book

and a mug of earl grey.

I didn’t see the way I tuck my hair behind my ear

or push my glasses up my nose

when I’m nervous.

I just saw skin.

I saw a body.

My body.

My perfectly plump and flawed body…

My body tells a story,

but it does not define my story.

Hell it barely even scratches the surface.