I hemmed and hawed about sharing this. My dear friend, Maria read it and shared all the connections she was able to make with the post. She convinced me it was worth sharing with more people.
I’ve stopped being skinny. I have folds around the middle. I think less of myself and suppose others must think less of me too.
In this new state, I am a disappointment.
My pants no longer fit comfortably. Some waistbands are tight. Some pairs fit snugly across my behind and cause the waistband to slide down in the back. This is a secret disgrace.
Most people cannot see these developments or at least don’t indicate that they notice. By modern Western standards I am still considered slim.
But that no longer describes how I feel. Or how I see myself.
Instead, there is a private shame. A shadow that casts itself over each view in the full length mirror. A mourning for a long battle finally lost.
I nearly left out guilt. It fuels my shame and hunches over the struggle. Guilt is active – it should…
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