a letter to my back fat

Dear Pregnant Body,

With your rolls and folds
your cellulite and stretch marks.
the way the soft flesh of your arm spreads out,
and how your thighs feel like the texture of the moon.
all craters and valleys.

It’s really your back fat that I have the issue with.
and I need to address it now.
so listen up, dear back fat….
you are not the worst thing that could possibly happen to my body.
you are not cancer, eating away at me.
you are not hate filled.
you are simply more of me. keeping this body plump, growing this fourth baby.
keeping us both alive.
you move with us as we walk, and turn over. dance, and now on the rare occasion, make love.
you are not hate filled, but my words have been
you are not cancer – but my thoughts are nearly as toxic to the soul.
to this body that lives.
a privilege not granted to all.
a body that procreates.
a privilege we know all too well, and cherish.

You’re just a crease on my body, where one layer sits upon the other.
for a fragment in time
while this body shape shifts into something more grand.
a mountain of Gaia.
a fountain of life.

You’re just a fold, where the soft of my flesh bends and gives..
spilling over in abundance.
you’re just taking up space.
just as you should.

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