Over the years, I’ve treated my body poorly – like an abusive partner, really. Demeaning. Degrading. Withholding and then asking for more and more and more.
It’s why I wear my fancy shoes with jeans on Fridays. It’s why my most expensive jeans will inevitably be covered in muddy paw prints and dog fur on Sunday afternoons.
In the past five years, my perspective on weight and, in particular, owning a scale has shifted.
From my thin, clear acetate cat-eye frames to my heavy, black-rimmed wayfarers, I’ve always felt like myself in glasses.
As a woman in today’s society, hair removal has almost always been a part of my life. Hair removal is a pretty personal thing, from method preference to even feeling shame or embarrassment about how much (or little) body hair you have.