I took my shirt off to sit sport’s bra-ed in the sun today and that little eating disorder voice in the back of my head came out of hibernation. “Your tummy looks fat,” he said. I felt my heart sink with the weight. Maybe he was right.
I danced in the empty hostel until the my back sweat through my shirt and my cheeks were flushed with tears. Expression moving through my strong body; I let go as emotion oozed from the movement.
I realized that the ED voice was a warning-flag as I turned off the music and breathed: endings are hard. Finishing up a month working my dream job in the mountains won’t be easy.
But I’m not fat; I just have feelings.