People look at my face and say,
“you have such beautiful skin.”
And while thanking them,
I think about the scarred skin that they cannot see
They see my eyes and tell me
How bright and full of life they are.
But to me they are hollow.

I stare in the mirror
Trying to find some grace.
My therapist’s words echo to me,
“challenge your feelings with facts.
Reframe your thoughts.”

So I stare at my naked body,
And slowly it breaks down.

Grey eyes,
Gapped teeth,
Fuck boi haircut,
Scarred arms,
Boobs that are too big
And a stomach that is even bigger… and scarred.
Chubby thighs,
Legs I’m too lazy too shave
And feet that probably have toe jam.

I hear her again.
“Challenge your feelings with facts,
Reframe your thoughts.”

So I stare at my naked body
And slowly it breaks down

Blue eyes,
Joyful smile,
Hair that represents me,
A story written upon the lengths of my arms
Boobs that remind me of my cis privilege.
A stomach that is lucky enough to be fed
Thighs that remind me of years of catching in softball
Legs with hella good calves,
And feet that help me walk.

My skin may be scarred
My stomach may be big,
I may bind my boobs..
And sometimes I may not.
But people are right.
Scarred and chubby and hollow.
My skin…
It is beautiful.



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