Dear Body
Dear Body,
I am trying to remember the last time I said, “I love you.”
This morning, I walked around my room. Naked.
I scooped up my stomach fat and traced the curve jutting under my ribs.
I traced the collarbones that stuck out above asymmetrical breasts.
There are constellations dotting my arms, with a Starry Night of pimples on my back.
My thighs dimpled and rippled with motion.
It is a wonder I have yet to recognize.
I am an artist who strives to find the beauty in everything but myself—and most importantly,
You.
One day, I’ll paint you in my sketchbook.
Not the way I am taught to see it.
Not the way I am shamed for it.
Simply its rolls and its dimples all in being.
Sincerely,
Ambar