This makes me think of women’s bodies. Curvy. Not necessarily always, but typically, we are curvy. Wide child bearing hips, breasts. The differences that come with growing up. No longer flat chested, no longer straight up and down.

I have no problem with other women’s bodies being curvy, I can find it beautiful, certainly. And yet I have always despised my curves. I hate my hips, my thighs, my curves and my softness and my squishy parts. I hate my breasts. I never wear proper bras, only sports ones, because the very last thing I want to do is wear something that I feel like accentuates them. I want them to be small, unnoticeable, not something I have to deal with. I wear men’s clothes more days of the week than not. Large t-shirts, and so much of the time, big jumpers. If they are longer, go over my hips, even better. Hiding all of my sins…my boobs, my waist, my hips.

And I don’t understand this about me. Why would I want to look child-like? When that’s when I was hurt? And it’s not that I feel like I’m in the wrong body, I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy, but have always felt comfortable as a female, it’s certainly how I identify.

I don’t know, makes no sense. But I like curves on others, but on myself… I feel like taking a knife and cutting them away.

One thought on “Curved

  1. to protect yourself, dear one. because you were told the lie that all abusers tell, that it was something about you that made them do it. so if you tuck it all away, maybe they will leave you be.

    you have written so beautifully about such awful ugly things, lately. i’m so proud of you but simultaneously want to hug you for the sadness of them.


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