They say an opinion is made to adapt, change, and develop, it's considered healthy. However, recently I have been asking myself if it's healthy for me to change my opinion about the woman I have become and grown into.
When I was first introduced to her, I was sceptical about how she could fulfil her potential. Every morning I assess her qualities, analyzing each aspect of her existence, my eyes following the uneven ground that make up her landscape. Her skin went on for miles, I travelled with her, finding hidden spots and secret escapes, the places that made her smile, and the areas where she goes to hide.
It began with unrequited love. She longed for me to care for her, touch her, and love her. She begged for acceptance, but I could not see her beauty. Flooded with trauma and abuse, when I looked at her I saw a field of tainted crops, that could not be revived. When I starred through her, I was met with a field full of corpses. The unsightly view forcing me awake each morning, it filled me with a deep, heavy dread that would sit across my chest for hours.
To me, she was nothing. I dreaded the sight of her curves, the shadows she cast over me as she moved through this world alongside me. She lacked sex appeal and embodied a more half-dead kind of look; her pathetic breasts barely visible next to the stomach she filled with processed thoughts of anxiety and depression. Her silhouette stained in my brain, repulsed by the shape we materialised. With so many beings on this earth, why did she choose me? Angered, the ache in my chest grew, I would do anything to detach myself from her hold. When I discovered alcohol, it allowed me to drift into oblivion but in the morning she punished me with hangovers that would last for days, making us both endure the pain.
As the years went by we got on with our lives, barely communicating or taking the time to truly be together. I stopped complaining, stopped hurting her, and just let her be. Over time our toxic relationship became tame, I saw a side to her that changed my opinion. The gentle hum of her existence, that once made my skin crawl now filled me with a sense of familiarity, that I almost revelled in. Somewhere along our journey together we reached a turning point, a singular moment where we mutually decided to work together. I took that time to care for her as she should have been cared for, I tried to make up for the years of abandonment and neglect that she experienced. Our visits to the gym became a daily occurrence, we ate together and enjoyed each others company.
For a while I admired the way she moved, I was so grateful for her strength and how she stood by me even when I put her through hell. As I grew and life moved on, my bank balance didn't permit me to attend a gym anymore, and adulthood took its toll. Some days I wake up, longing to change myself, to slim down and watch the layers fall away. The reflection in the mirror became a tease, taunting me to hurt her, change her. But the next morning approaches and I hug her as if she is a long lost friend; her curves like artwork glistening in the morning rays, her beauty is radiant. I reminisce about every detail; freckles and moles decorate her skin, and although some scars replace them I smile at this unique piece of art in front of me and thank her for all she has done for me.
This relationship is one with twists, turns and a ton of complex emotions. The temple I call my own is capable of so much strength.
It feels like we have known each other for a lifetime but our journey has only just begun. While our experiences shape us, I try to look in the mirror and appreciate the body that supports me. Our society has trained us to look upon ourselves with judging eyes and wish for an unattainable image that haunts us. While our world has its negatives and positives, I will always try to love the body I am in because each day it functions with such precision to keep me alive and well.
After all, it is the only one I have and it is my duty to care for her.
Until next time x
Photos: Roseanna Storie @roseannastorie @rosestorie