Tuesday, January 1, 2013

I want my body back, body back, body back....

I want my body back.

I want my 16-year-old body back, the hundred-thirty-pound-mass with "giant calves" and "thunder thighs."  Give me THAT body back so I can try to hate it now.  

I want my 18-year-old body back, the one I felt huuuuge in if the scale approached numbers like, oh, say...138.  "Yeah, you're a real porpoise.  Downright obese," I would tell that stupid girl who said those stupid fucking things to herself.  

I want my 20-year-old body back, the one that seemed enormous in lingerie.  The one that was always over-endowed in the wrong areas and lacking in all the right ones.  Give me back THAT body, that I tortured into submission with all the jogging and biking and workout videos, never quite reaching perfection in.  

I want my 22-year-old body back, the hundred-twenty-big-fat-pounds I strategically covered in blankets and turned off the lights to have sex in.  Let me hide it and cover it in shame now, cringing in self-recrimination for my failure to measure up to my porn-addicted boyfriend's expectations.  

I want my 24-year-old body back, the one guys were attracted by, but I was repulsed by.  Give me back the opportunity to rebuff compliments and reject every nice thing anyone ever said about me as delusional.  

I want my 26-year-old body back, the one I rode across the entire state of Iowa in on RAGBRAI, and trained for a half-marathon in.  Let me remember what it's like to hate being a size 9, so I can recall the distorted thought process that minimized every accomplishment in favor of continued self-loathing.

I want my 27-year-old body back, the one my boyfriend told, "Well...there's the weight thing...but you can *change* that."  I want that moment back so I can tell him to fuck the fuck off, instead of telling myself that I am not worthy of love unless I am a size....who knows what the fuck size would have pleased him.  

I want THAT body back, the one I punished with relentless running after that breakup, to the point of serious injury.  

Give me back the body that could run without pain, bike for hours, and recover in 24 hours, so I can remember how demented I was to abhor being healthy if no one could see my clavicle or ribcage.  

I want all those days back I spent hating myself because I hated that body because I hated never feeling good enough.  

I want to trade in all these years I have actually BEEN fat for all the years I just BELIEVED I was ginormous.  I promise not to take it for granted this time around if I can just trade in these fat rolls no Spanx can adequately encase for the "revolting" slight protrusion of my stomach I was so disgusted by.  

Yeah.  I want my body back.