Guest Bloggers Takeover // Adornment / Waist beads

waist

my belly is soft // the sides of my hips are adorned with stretch marks from weight gain and physical growth; my stomach is noticeable when I do not want it to be. I have spent valuable time hiding my body, cursing it, hoping that it will miraculously shift and shrink.

my scale has been the first thing to greet me on many mornings; before coffee, before the warmth of a shower, before my thoughts can gather. the notes section of my phone is the graveyard of unwanted numbers: 184.5, 182.3, 181.9, 185.0. I shed tears more often than I shed weight; grapple with a heaviness that exceeds width of my thighs.

adornment /

softly grazing my hips, tightening and slackening as my body moves, grows, shrinks, hums, my fingers graze them, these beads, cool to the touch, rolling as I roll, warming as I warm. in the mirror they glow, oranges and blues sitting taut against my skin.

in the mirror, I dance. they are noiseless until I am jumping, and then they click together, keeping time with me; click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, my feet are pounding the floor, my thighs are thunderous, my stomach is sloshing, and as my arms rise above my head, the beads slide lower. suddenly I am reaching downward to slap my palms against the floor in time to the beat; I am bent in half, and the beads rise to my rib cage and stay.

I am vibrating, humming, shaking, shifting. I stop in the middle of my room and my body is heaving, sweating, grinning; I am grinning, heaving, sweating

/ adornment

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