Brialee Turner

I just took the clothes
off of the rack
because of their color
and their texture,
and not their size.

I think that younger me would
be so proud,
that instead of forcing my
body to fit into an arbitrary box,
that I was never designed to
squish the scars and skin
and hair and and curves
and cells and blood
to fit inside.

And then I just tried the clothes
on and didn’t try to make
something cover my body
or zip over my stomach.
And I didn’t convince myself that
there was something wrong with me
because a piece of fabric
couldn’t encompass my soul.

And I didn’t even notice the
curves
or rolls
or stretch marks in the mirror.
Instead I was so focused on
whether or not my body felt comfortable
inside the skin that goes on top of my
glow for a period of time.

For the first time in my life,
I am learning to focus on
how my body feels
instead of feeling hate for my body.

I let myself pick the flowy fabrics,
the “bigger” sizes, and I didn’t
even judge myself when that happened,
because it just felt natural and human,
and whole.

Younger me would feel so proud.