Powerless

Twenty two pounds.

I lean and reach to scratch an unidentified itch on my right ankle and immediately become aware of angles previously unfelt. The sharpness of the bones through the skin of my feet, ankles, shins; the ridge of muscle and bulge of veins. These things were invisible to me a month ago. A think layer of fat covered these things a month ago. This discovery brings a fluttering to my stomach that has nothing to do with happiness. It is fear. Anxiety. Terror. Stark, bottomless, engulfing. You are losing weight. You will not be obese. You will not be covered. You will not be invisible anymore. You will be naked. They will look at you.

They will say sexual things to you.

They will start at one point on your body and rake their eyes down your form and you will see them and be powerless.

You are powerless.

You cannot stop the eyes.

You cannot stop the comments.

My gut churns. How can I control them? I can be a stone cold bitch and break my rage off inside them. I will then be called a prude, frigid, names because I reject their eyes. Their comments. Their ownership. Themselves. I do not care about the names. I know I am no prude.

I care about the eyes.

I wish I didn't but I do. I don't want the eyes. The dripping lustful, sneering glances, rage-inducing. Stop it. Just stop it.

I am not yours. Will NEVER BE YOURS. You will not fucking touch me.

This body is mine. It was given to me for my use. Mine alone. You don't have a snowball's chance in hell of ever touching one hair on my head. I will not smile and be nice. I will shut your shit down.

These are the things I think, the things I feel at twenty two pounds.

I still have more than a hundred to go. How naked will I feel then?

Terrified.

So, eight books on eating disorders and shame await me at the library. Self-defense classes and kick-boxing usually happen in gyms. With men. And eyes. I need power. Power I could gain from these classes. I have to go through the sea of eyes to get it.

I have never joined a gym. Because of the eyes.

Powerless.

Comments

  1. Through therapy you will get stronger and the thoughts of THEY will have less control over you and you will reclaim your power; but as a sister-friend who has also been molested I understand. Truly.

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  2. or you could get old like me and never have to worry about any man ever looking at you again. It is sooo liberating. If I had known just how liberating I would have gotten old faster.
    But read the books, please... You are not powerless. You could gauge their eyes out in kickboxing :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Do not let THEY define you. You ARE strong. You ARE powerful. You ARE viseable. You ARE courageous. I know this because most of all you ARE a survivor.

    ReplyDelete

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