She stared at her feet. She hated them. She also disliked her legs a decent amount. She touched her hair. She liked that, though. Short crop but it always made her feel good. She had always felt she occupied too much space. She wasn’t fat per say. But she wouldn’t be called thin in this lifetime. She struggled to fit herself in the appropriate boxes. But with her hair she refused to conform.
She wished to reveal these thoughts in her gender class the next day.
She had joined mid way and everyone had already developed attachments. She tried but she couldn’t really fit in. So she slunk to the back and just wrote notes throughout class. She didn’t speak a word. The class was discussing body image for the next week. She knew it would be interesting. Maybe this would urge her to find her voice.
It seemed like a shallow and stupid exercise at first. But in fact, it was deeper than she realised. She hated parts of her own body; she never really sat down to think why.
Did others feel the same?
Sometimes she felt no need to share her thoughts. The warmth and solidarity of knowing she wasn’t alone was enough. But sometimes she wanted to let out her experiences. Share without any fear.
She, suddenly, couldn’t wait for class.