Combo Breaker

A piece I am particularly attached to. I wrote it for another location, but would like to include it here, as well.


Ripping my mindset out and apart. Starting again. Starting fresh. Fresh veg. Appreciation of meat. Hungry only when I am hungry.
Momma always says she's fat. Grandma always says she's fat. I wish my body was nice.
My leaders, my foremothers. they hate their bodies. So I hate mine, too.
Obviously, my pubescent, pudgy body is also flawed.
I mean, My God! My mother was thin, God Damn It! And I, a child, was able to (and often did) wear her clothing. They fit me. Not well. Not on the undefined body of a youngster. Mother was proportional, something that I did not understand until later.
There's no escape, and I shall accept my fate.
I too shall make temple in an improper let down of a body. A disgrace. I will worship my woman's shame. The lack of control. The spite harbored in each and every meal. I will whisper teary prayers of thanks for the dismal slob I am meant to be.
Thank you, God.
Divine as you are,
You knew I could not handle being pretty.
Thank you, God.
You always knew that I was weak.
It's good for me to see it in my elders. The constant and very vocal body struggle and self distaste. The solid stone repetitiveness of history. The constant in my life, the ever-present up and down kamikaze crash and burn hopes and dreams of failed fad dieting. It was soothing. The early learning of the grumbles always hand in hand with body motion. Running is for masochists. Women can't do real push-ups. Sit-ups are an excruciating chore, but they target the stomach which is my problem area. I don't have time to do all the rest, let's hope that this does the trick.
It doesn't.
This is a failed marriage of Body, Soul and Mind.
These lovers were never meant to try.
It's out of my hands.
Destiny wills it.
God billed it.
Invited us in.
Set us up with lights, cameras, action.
And this is what we became.
It's the same, all down the line of generations and there is no way to escape from us, this blood runs thick like our middles. It's best just to accept.

Wait...

No.

NO.

This is not who I am.
This is not going to define who I am.
This,
I'm going to have to unlearn.
Body you are mine and you will bend to me. I am heaven and this is how I function. I am not afraid of you, as I am not afraid of the gate along the fence, the threshold that holds me in and holds my home. I am not afraid to have a functioning, fertile, lovely body. In what way did this become a significant and frightening thing to be? This is truly an absurdity. Why am I afraid to have a normal, rational, working body? That's not wrong or creepy. This is what nature wants of me.

And each drop on the scale, Every Single Size of Jeans lost, I hold my breath and fight off anxiety and terror. It melts off like candlewax. In a burst, then stability, then a bit more. I feel my soul holding up and elongating my spine. Stay in there tough guy. Huh, how about that, I'm holding my head up high. Oh god, I feel like the sun rising. I feel caressed and kissed and shivering. My body is right.
I love my body.
And My Body Loves Me.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale  Exhale.
Inhale.
It's OK.
Exhale.
I have a normalizing, fairly attractive, effective and functional body. This is nothing to fear.
Inhale.
Drop tension.
Exhale.
I love my body
and my body loves me.