She Spoke For All

“Awesome, it doesn’t feel like I just washed these jeans!”

I heard this…and choked…and second guessed…and wanted to say something…and needed to leave…and

 

You’d think that the size of her thighs wouldn’t matter since she’s a varsity athlete…

Since she’s exercising twice a day…

Since she’s pushing her body to its limit each and every day…

 

Yet with these extreme, admirable and exhausting physical exertions comes the gaze, the personal gaze and doubt and self hatred that may not even be conscious

All

The time

For her.

But, for others, it really is – this gaze is their whole life, their whole being, their purpose – to be better – to take up less

S

P

A

C

E

.

And you’d hope that she didn’t try to mold her body to the clothes she bought years ago in hopes that she didn’t change, didn’t move, didn’t live…

 

And yet she’s a varsity athlete and the width of her thighs is continually and pervasively on her mind, the broadness of her shoulders she hides, the creases on her stomach she counts, the gap between her legs she measures, the ribs on her back she likes, her collarbones protrude like a cry for help masked by a sense of personal approval…

And this one comment:

“It doesn’t feel like I just washed these jeans!”

Eats at me,

Describes me,

Clarifies that that was once me too,

And that that "me" comes back sometimes,

And sometimes I can’t stop it,

And it comes,

Like I am the embodiment of our society.

 

I comment rung in my ears,

Like a familiar demon,

But it sounds like I’m not alone,

That this girl is speaking for us all.

And that, above all,

Scares me the most.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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