I’ve been struggling with body dysmorphia this week because I missed a birth control pill. One stupid little missed pill — which was quickly made up for — has thrown me into a chaotic, emotional pit of self-disdain and complete confusion.
On the one hand, my heavy breasts please me, on the other the crease in my waist disgusts me.
On the one hand, my soft, athletic body titillates me, on the other I wish I could shrink it.
So today as I thought about taking pictures in the morning light — a treat I haven’t had the pleasure of in far too long — I plotted ways to hide from you all. And then as quickly as the thought came I forced it out. Home girl don’t play like that.
I lay on my bed and smooshed my breasts together and held the camera from above. I was pleased at how my form looked, round and inviting. I got up and thought I might try using my timer.
As I set the phone on my dresser I was taken with the simplicity of my form, the mundane activity I viewed as I prepped the position. I moved to redress and stopped. There was an image I had never seen: me just being me, a person getting dressed, not posing, not trying to be sexy.
I let the camera’s timer do the rest and I forgot all about the crease in my waist. Fuck that awful voice in my head. Just FUCK IT.
Now I’m going to go make some bacon and black coffee on this bright Sunday morning and cuddle with my little one. I have a lot to be thankful for, including this strong, unique body that never lets me down. Crease and all.
Click the lips to see who else is playing along for Sinful Sunday!