i felt like rotating it

I’m just gonna put it out there. I’ve kinda been struggling with body image since moving to Kansas. It’s totally a battle within my own mind because honestly Kevin never fails to remind me how beautiful he thinks I am. Even when I plop down next to him on the couch with a towel on my head, pimple cream on my face, and eating a giant spoonful of peanut butter.

I’m not sure exactly what has sparked the feels. Maybe it’s the change in the type of clothing I have to wear. Winter wear has so many layers and I don’t really have stuff for this season I love so as I’ve mentioned before I haven’t felt like myself. I rotate the same pants and tops because they’re what fit and it’s not comfortable to dress up when you’re in and out of the car and not knowing where you’ll sit at someone’s house.

I found recently that I feel bad for having a stomach. Like I legitimately get uncomfortable when my stomach is noticeable. As if having a stomach is a bad thing! I’ve spent my whole life feeling like I took up too much space. It’s been a battle to learn to truly love my body, even when I’m not the smallest size on the rack.

I recently wrote a post about all the confidence and things I’ve tried in the past. And despite all that I still have days where I feel like physically and mentally, I don’t reflect that I’m in the same good place.

But the reality of the situation is:

My strength and beauty is not determined by the number on a scale, the size of my pants, the clearness of my skin, the amount of times I eat donuts in a week, or how much space I take up.

I’m putting this here to remind myself of that that I am a strong and beautiful person even if the clothes I buy have one or two x’s on the tag for the size, my stomach is noticeable, my face breaks out, or I eat chocolate every day for a week.

I am enough.
ALL of me is enough.


Look at the window,
feel your head spin,
spray yourself down,
walk inside.

I was looking at her,
and I felt my chest spin,
I could feel every star in the universe,
I could feel my heart beating
in my throat.

Walk upstairs,
get under the covers,
“do you need anything?”

“kill yourself,”

No one said tripping was fun,
but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

I felt galaxies at my finger tips,
but it felt more like touching your skin,
I watch the sun rotate,
and I watched your eyes in the darkness.

Nothing makes sense now,
it doesn’t need to,
all I know is that I wanted you last night, but you left me months ago.

Somewhere deep inside,
I still haven’t let you go,
and that untapped part comes alive
as the chemicals flood my mind.
—  tripping (s.s)