Ode/Apologia to/for My Body
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 27, 2022
What’s worse than a cold bathroom? The Holocaust. That’s it.
Happy Birthday to Me. I'm 53. I Feel Old.
This past year, the year of the pandemic, is the year I grew old.
A Troubling Hare
I have a lot of problems. Let me restate that. A lot of problems have me. Having a problem is an illusion. It implies I have control over that problem. I don’t. The problem has control over me.
I Am Constantly Relearning How to Love my Body
Sometimes I take selfies and I post them on the internet. I wonder if people will think I’m vain, but then I think that liking my appearance enough to be vain is itself a kind of victory.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?