These thighs will not part like the Red Sea for a man who thinks he is a god.

These thighs, this stomach is too large, too soft for men to appreciate
That they are my body.

They are what keeps me alive.
My thighs carry me.
They carry this precious body where it must go.

My stomach nourishes me,
Keeps me full and sustained.

I have stopped making everything about me an apology.
This body is mine,
It is me.

Although it often feels fuckable and but not loveable,
I have now stopped longing for boys who only loved my skinny and started longing for better.
This body was not made for a man.

It was made to support my through my success, comfort me when I cry, hold me when I am weak.

I am still learning to love my body, but I no longer accept unsolicited comments on how I am ‘soft’, and ‘cuddly’.

I am getting there.