My body is not for your consumption.
My body was not placed on this earth to make you comfortable.
My body is not here to please your eye. My body is not here to make you happy.
Hate to break it to you, but the concerns you have for me need to be focused on yourself.
My body is mine.
It’s been there for me through it all: trauma, anxiety, depression, stress, abuse.
My body is not for your consumption. My body is not just about the number on the scale and whether I look the same as what you’re use to seeing.
My body is not for your commentary on what you think is right or wrong with me.
My body is not your diagnosis project. “You look sickly.” “You look like you have a disorder.” “I’m saying this out of love.”
My response to you, and I mean this with love, is fuck you. You are not my doctor.
My body is not a conversation point. My body is not an opportunity for you to project your bullshit insecurities.
My body is like mine and mine alone.