189/365 Memories (+1 from martinak15 on Flickr

I am nostalgic.

I came across this poem that I wrote five months ago — I honestly completely forgot I had written it. Every word of it rings true to me tonight. It’s hard. But I’m sharing it, sending it into the void. I’m not sure why.

Content note: talk of serious depression and disordered eating.


I am nostalgic for a time
when people would say
“this place wouldn’t be the same
without you”
when I could have intense conversations
with everyone I knew
and people didn’t abandon me
because of my beliefs.
I am nostalgic for belonging.

I am nostalgic for a time
when my depression was coded
“depth of character”
and not weakness of will
when my anxiety was a secret
and I could push through it all
for months on end.
I am nostalgic for appearances.

I am nostalgic for a time
when people swooned for my curls
and complimented my curves
but only when I lost weight
when my clothes hung on my body
and my smile wore thin
and I only ate every other day.
I am nostalgic for “beauty.”

I have romanticized
every forced smile
every skipped meal
every submission to the will of other people
every detachment from
every emotion
for most of my life.
I have demonized the realities
by calling them “breakdowns”
by calling them “flukes”
by apologizing for taking up
space and time
and making anyone notice
that I was actually in pain.

I am nostalgic for belonging
no matter the cost.

The body I have.

That leopard print thing is one of Sherlock's fabulous coats.

That leopard print thing in the bottom left corner is one of Sherlock’s fabulous coats.

I am fat.

And for the first time in my young life…

I am okay with that.


As I write this, I am sitting in my size 20 dark-wash skinny jeans.

You read that right. Skinny jeans — that somehow miraculously hug my butt, hips, thighs, and calves without making my stomach protrude unnaturally. Skinny jeans that make me look, well, really good.

On top of these magical jeans, I am wearing a size XL faded teal 3-quarter-sleeve fitted shirt with buttons halfway down the front, mostly unbuttoned so I feel neither choked nor awkward. It hangs just at my hips, which is remarkable considering my tall torso.

I am happy with how I look, even though I still have bulges I’d rather not have.

But it most certainly has not always been the case.

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