Let's Be Still

Movement, for me, has a deep history of self-punishment. Whether it be a severe addiction to running, dancing with no fuel, hiking for hours on end... it would end in self-deprecation.

I haven't used the gym for about 2 weeks. And I haven't keeled over on the brink of death.

Amazing.

I feel as if I am writing new rules for myself. I may feel the pressure to look a certain way when I sense the male gaze upon me, or the perverted validation I feel when I am 'desired' by others, or admired for such 'self-discipline' ... but it's fake. It's fake because I am still relying on a system of abusive objectification of the body in order to feel satisfied. It's fake because i's not my own happiness: it's conditioned happiness.

It's conditioned happiness that I witness countless other women living by each and every day. Chisled arms, unnaturally concave stomaches and legs that don't touch are simply evidence to me of people trying desperately to live in a world that isn't theirs: objectification of the body attached with a sense of self-worth isn't the world I want to live in anymore.

Just for a moment, let's be still.

Amidst this world of endless chaos, let's be still.

I am going to be still until I can create the world I want to live in: one in which my productivity level and sculpt of my body doesn't define how I see myself.

Because sparkle has no size or shape. It just shimmers.