Alright, that's out of the way, moving on.

As this is being posted, I will be sitting in a hospital recovering from surgery. A surgery that when I wrote A Body I Love was a pipe dream, far off in the horizon.

I'll try to spare the gory details, but I haven't been comfortable with my body since I was maybe 13 years old. This discomfort — which I would later learn was largely gender dysphoria — kept me from actually loving my body. One specific part of it, which, if all has gone according to plan, is now gone.

I wrote A Body I Love during a particularly rough episode of dysphoria. I dreamed of a time when I didn't feel this way all the time. When I could see my body and not hate myself, not devolve into a panic attack. In early November, when I began putting together Touch the Clouds, I knew I wanted it in there.

Now, here I am. I scheduled A Body I Love specifically on the day before my surgery. I want to remember that feeling of hopelessness, that struggle. As I begin the long road to recovery, I want to remember all the time I spent curled up in a ball because I couldn't stand my own body. I want to remember how lost I felt less than a year ago. I want to remember how worth it all of this will be.

I wish I could see her again, that scared girl, and tell her “In one year, you'll have passed your six month post surgery landmark. You've got this.”

The “One day” to which I referred in the poem is now. I made it.

So please, don't give up. It's worth it to hold on to hope.

And please, take care of yourself.

#StoryBehind

© 2024-2026 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA