Hunger

This is a book about learning, however slowly, to allow myself to be seen and understood

The story of my body is not a story of triumph.

I was marked after that. Men could smell it on me, that I had lost my body, that they could avail themselves of my body, that I wouldn’t say no because I knew my no did not matter. They smelled it on me and took advantage, every chance they got.

I had a ferocious imagination. I was a daydreamer and I resented being pulled out of my daydreams to deal with the business of living.

Some boys had destroyed me, and I barely survived it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to endure another such violation, and so I ate because I thought that if my body became repulsive, I could keep men away.

For one, I am tall. That is both a curse and a saving grace. I have presence, I am told. I take up space. I intimidate. I do not want to take up space. I want to go unnoticed. I want to hide. I want to disappear until I gain control of my body.

As I surveyed my surroundings, I did that thing fat people tend to do around other fat people—I measured myself in relation to their size.

is easier, I think, to be miserable, to remain mired in self-loathing.

My body offers me the power of presence. My body is powerful.

I’m learning to make a home for myself based on what I want and need, in my heart of hearts. I’ve decided that I will not allow my body to dictate my existence, at least, not entirely. I will not hide from the world.