When I leave my contacts in during a shower, I see myself naked in there.  When the water is dripping down my chest, stomach, arms.  Dripping off my pointy elbows, off the edges of my breasts, I am reminded that no matter what I do to change my physical appearance, no matter how much I try to destroy myself or lift myself up, this will always be my body.

I know he does not accept it and I understand why.

I live in this outward state of “I’m fine.” “I know I’m beautiful.”  But when exposed, who can I lie to?  I can’t kid myself.  My breasts without ua bra are so unnatural.

I know everyone has some issue with their body.  I just wish I could have a “normal” woman problem, like “my ass is too big” “I can never lose the last 10 pounds” or whatever.  Breasts nearly define a woman, to a man. Pity party, table for one.  I just wish I was dealt a different hand in life.  I know it isn’t my breasts that caused him to shut down, to cheat on me over and over and over and over and over again.  But it sure is hard to feel good about myself when I keep shit real.

He tries to take back his words.  The words of not liking the feel of my breasts.  Of telling me he doesn’t like my breasts.  Of telling me they’re not big enough.  That they feel “weird” when I orgasm.

God it fucking kills me.

It makes me think that maybe my only hope of being accepted for who I am is with someone else.  Someone who LIKES my body, likes my breasts, even as “different” as they are.  Someone who likes ME.

Then there’s my poor, bloated belly.  The belly that from day to day doesn’t know if it will get any food or liquid for 48 hours of if it will be getting 10k calories that day.  The distended, sad, pathetically confused belly.  I feel compassion for myself when I see myself in the shower.  I talk to myself inside my head the way I’d speak to a best friend.  Wishing I could just be kind to myself.  Wishing for things to be different.  Easier.  As if wishing is all it would take.

JH is coming for lunch soon.  I hope I can hold it together at least to some degree in front of her.  I don’t even know her that well.  She lost her HUSBAND to aggressive cancer a few years ago.  He died when their third child was 4 months old.  What a fucking nightmare.

As I keep telling myself: at least no one died.

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