My body is not sculpted by hours of torturous exercise, rather rendered soft and pliable, moulded by the life it’s led.

It has born babies, lost babies, been loved, abused, neglected, and delighted in moments of pure, carnal pleasure.

In my mind, I separate self from rounded fleshy wrapper, and in doing so allow myself to experience enjoyment without spending hours in morbid, self-critical introspection.

For the sake of my own sanity, I simply accept it as is.


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Sinful Sunday