let me tell you a story.
let me tell you a story about two girls
who looked in the mirror every single day.
when the first one looked, she saw things that haunted her:
hair that lay too flat.
a face covered in grease and bumps
a neck that sloped up to her chin and embarrassed her
a bit of stomach that touched the fabric of her tshirts
thighs that shook when she walked
ugly tiny toes covered in scars and marks
when the second one looked, she saw things that made her smile:
hair that shone gold in the sun
a face with spots from all the dirt and dusts of her many adventures.
a neck that went squish and made her laugh
a lil tummy rounded from cookies and birthday cake and Christmas dinner.
thighs that carried her up mountains and kicked through currents.
feet that fell and scraped from riding bikes on summer days.
- I am both -
(I wrote this in italics and mostly uncapitilized because that's how the cool kids do it)
Yo. I debated about whether or not to post this because it isn't usually what I post (I know, what a rebel), but I decided that it's called An Odd Blog for a reason. It can be whatever I want it to be (though I promise I have some more bookish content coming your way soon-ish).
This is a journal entry from just less than a year ago, when I first decided that I was meant to live in my body, not try to keep it pristine. The first girl was my before, the second is me now. I love the idea that our bodies are stories and canvases, meant to be proof of our life.
Sidenote That Kind Of Relates, Kind of Not: I have scars all across the tops of my toes from when I was wearing sandals and riding my bike (an A+ combo if I've ever heard one). I crashed, and skidded, and walked home slipping in my own blood (I was 10, and I felt really hardcore and tough...except for the waterfall of tears). It is, to this day, the most painful thing I've ever felt.
All that to say: that experience is now forever a part of me. Its proof of existence written on my still scarred toes.
|IT'S PRETTY COOL THAT WE ARE BLANK PAGES SLOWLY FILLING UP WITH WORDS|
sorry for the short post.