Sometimes
I want my body to show you how I’ve changed.
My skin with a healthy glow
with fewer scars, marks, creases.
My stomach less indulged,
more starved.

And you’ll all say:
“Wow, you’ve really changed”
As if my appearance is an exhibition.
You see me, but you aren’t really looking.
As if my looks would display anything to anyone:
I am what I am.
My skin stretching over my bones
won’t show you how hard I’ve worked
to be myself, to become myself, to accept myself.

So when you look at me and say:
“You look well, you’ve really lost weight.”
Don’t look there.
This body
doesn’t tell the whole story.
My eyes
will tell you everything you need to know.