Dear Body

We are not friends

We used to be, long ago

Until I conspired with the mirror and TV

And learned to hate you

I learned to hate your bumps and edges

The jiggling of your legs as we walked

The puffy cheeks and back fat you so desperately clung onto to

I learned to hate myself

Society taught me

To love the feeling of acid climbing up my throat

To embrace my hip bones

To cherish the way I could place a marble on my collarbone

To take pride in being cold on a warm day

But never once, did I stop and think

What was happening to you?

You grew weak and docile

Easily breakable like a toothpick that I used to carve out my shame between my teeth

You shriveled

Muscles falling away

Screaming from the inside you grabbed onto our remaining fat and pulled

Trying to keep us alive

You went into starvation mode

And not once

Did I feel for you?

Instead, I adored you

I adored the peach fuzz covering our shoulders

The way our hair would fall out when I brushed it

The cracking of our blue nails

I hated you

And yet,

I loved you

Some days you would try to talk to me

Sending me waves of distress in bouts of dizziness and stomach pains

I knew that I was killing you

And you knew that I didn’t want to stop

So, you took matters into your own hands

You shrunk until people started to really notice

You caused our heart to become weak and our blood sugar to drop

You did all you could for attention

And I suppose

I thank you

A year later we are still not friends

We are trying to be

Parts of me hate you

And you unconditionally love me

For you are willing to do anything

To save us

You are my savior

And my home

And I’ll be damned

If I repay you for saving us

With air