1. Piece of metal

Repeatedly pressed against my skin

Holding my mind for a ransom

I paid in blood and tears.

2. Fingers

Frantically shoved down my throat

In hopes I’d throw up

Something worth loving.

3. Meals a day

I couldn’t choke down

Without choking on my failure.

Every bite a war I lost.

4. Numbers on a scale.

Three and a decimal point.

As if .5 of a pound

Could possibly measure my success.

5. Times I put those pills to my tongue

And willed myself to swallow.

But the only thing I swallowed was my dignity

Because I wasn’t even strong enough

To take my own life.

6. Teen years old.

Trying desperately to disappear.

So I couldn’t fail anymore.

7. Deadly sins.

But no one told me seeking perfection was one of them.

Deadly.

8. Therapists later.

I still don’t run right.

9. Letters that changed my life.

9. Beautiful.

9. I’m beautiful.

9. Yes, I said beautiful.

9. And I refuse to allow myself to be defined by numbers of any kind.  

9. I am enough.

9. I have always been enough.

9.  I will always be enough.

9.  You can’t hurt me anymore.

10. If you must use numbers to define me, use these:

My heart beats 72 times per minute.

It takes 26 muscles to smile.

And on average, I will meet over 9 million people in my lifetime.

9 million people with hearts beating in time

With mine.

72 times per minute.

Who I will force to use 26 muscles

When they smile at me for the first time.

And my god if that’s not…beautiful.

I don’t know what is.