Bodies
I've been fat my whole life, so it shouldn't really come as a surprise that I think about my body a lot. I've had sort of a contentious relationship with it in the sense that I have gone back and forth between hating it and accepting it as is. When I was a kid, I had a fuzzy picture of myself as thinner, more attractive than I was then. But, unlike the way we see with some celebrities, puberty did not magically grace me with a new physique. I remained fat, awkward, and just about average height.
I fell in March of this year and slipped on ice. I went to the ER and they said it was a sprain, so I felt a bit foolish for how I had lain on the ground crying in pain. However, at a follow up a few days later, I found out that it was more severe than this: I had torn a tendon in my leg and the only way to assure my ability to walk normally in the future was surgery. So, after a few weeks of trying not to do too much and requesting daily substitutes for my classes, I had surgery. One of the frustrating parts of this process was the recovery, which I was told beforehand would involve about six weeks of keeping the leg from bending. So, after accounting for the weeks leading up to the surgery, I spent about eight weeks, nearly two months, not leaving the house. It was harder on me than I realized--I'm trans and not out to my mom, with whom I live, so I felt, to some extent, like I was constantly masking myself during this time. That's another post, though.
While it was nice to be able to have time off and just work on my research, not really being able to leave the house, to have the kind of autonomy I was used to, was really hard for me. It has, looking back, made me appreciate my body in a new way. It's not quite the same, but in Detransition, Baby, Ames thinks about his body before transition as a loyal dog, one that comes when called and does what it's told obediently and he misses that after he starts transitioning. My body has never quite been that, but I still missed it being able to easily do things that had become more difficult because of the injury and surgery. I started weight-lifting near the end of last year and the fall meant that wasn't and still isn't happening; I can't wait to get back to it.
But, I'm trying to start really loving my body and living in it and with it. I said this to my friend recently, but for the longest time, I have looked in the mirror and the person staring back is someone I don't recognize, a stranger. Recently, when I go out with my friends, that's not the case. I put on make-up, earrings, a dress and I look in the mirror and I'm happy. I see me. This body, as much as I've spent time not appreciating it, hating it, wishing it were different, is still the only one I have. The only one I'll get, barring some science fiction change in our world. I need to love it. As a fat trans woman, this feels like a radical act. But even if it isn't, the girl in the mirror deserves it. I deserve it.
