My body is built to bear children.
I must stop comparing my body to those
of women who are simply built....
differently than I am.
My stretch marks are an atlas of the
paths I've walked. From adolescence to
womanhood, I have a story. My body
tells, my story.
I'm coming to accept that I will simply
never be that small, and it is not
something to be shameful about.
I'm coming to accept this with little
anecdotes, such as, my body is built to
But I still have days, where I feel like I am...
On those days, I try to make myself smaller on my couch;
but only end up making myself larger
with each handful I shovel to the pit,
in the bottom of my stomach.
What can I use to console myself
when my disappointment in my looks is
So much so that the doubtful light
at the end of the tunnel is more tempting
than the sun.
And what happens...where does my
anecdote go when, the children never come?
When my gynecologist finds similes in words such as 'barren' or 'empty'
My body-was, built to bear children.
Copyright © Annabelle Dillon | Year Posted 2021
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