Day Eighteen – Open a Book

hawmc2013Open a book. Choose a book and open it to a random page and point to a phrase. Use that phrase to get you writing today. Free write for 15-20 without stopping.

“I’d never been mad about my body.”

Well, its true, I’d never been crazy about my body.

I was a tiny, flat chested teenager until the middle of my 4 year at secondary school and I “blossomed”. It is a slight understatement. They just happened. And I was embarrassed by them. They were very noticeable. They looked silly on my 5”2 frame. It was a struggle to accept them for what they were; a part of me.

When I went to university, I found that embracing my body was alot easier than fighting against it. I’ve always wanted to look attractive – who doesn’t right? – and it got me alot of attention in classes, on nights out, in social situations. It got me numerous suitors. I almost looked forward to another night out, just for the possibility of the next.

I eventually calmed down from all this. It still shocked me that anyone would want to spend time with me, with this body, this mind of mine. It just takes me by surprise, always.

When I spent my time in the hospital I lost almost 4 stone. At my lowest, I was hovering on just about 8st. I have never been a skinny girl. Always been curvy. To loose all that, it was scary. I had little chicken legs. My arms were all boney. I could see all my ribs. My collarbone. My head looked too big for my head. I lost some of my hair from the medication and drugs they had to give me. I looked completely drained. I was white a sheet for most of my time ‘being sick’. I thought this was as low as I could go. NO ONE COULD SEE THIS. NO ONE. NO ONE WOULD FIND ME ATTRACTIVE.

I had to wait for my Humira to settle down and then I could go out again. I was still very thin (8st4) when I first went out in town. I was in a dress, I had my short hair, and I tried my best to look good. It worked. I met my then boyfriend. And it hasn’t stopped since. Like I said, always amazed.

Being a very invisible condition, Crohn’s made me hate my body. I wondered why it couldn’t just WORK PROPERLLY FOR GOODNESS SAKE and why it had decided to ATTACK ME SO BADLY FOR NO APPARENT REASON. It was hard. I still haven’t really accepted it. I’ve accepted my limitations, but even some days I want to throw those out the window. But. I wouldn’t not want to have this condition. It might sound crazy, but I like who I am, like what I am, how I look with Crohn’s. I might look just normal and very ordinary to every one who looks at me whilst I’m outside my house, but I know differently. It’s like having a secret. A good one. One you know you can’t share. One you wouldn’t want to share; would want to keep all to yourself.

I like my short hair. I like my glasses. I like my clothes. I love my new (two size smaller!) jeans. I like my attitude. I like my skin. I love my little crohnie belly. I like my steady weight of 9st. I even like my grumbling guts from time to time. They are mine, and no one NO ONE can take that away from me.

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