I've spent the better half of today naked, twisting and turning in front of the mirror, trying to decide why to love myself. Because when I scrunch my rib cage toward my hip on one side it stretches on the other? revealing a line of one-two-three-four protruding ribs I wish to make music on with a drumstick, and follow the curved line south to reveal a sturdy hip bone? eager to be knocked on, choosy on who to open for.