My Body gives endlessly, but takes only what it needs. I breathe because my body remembers what I require. My body, daily, has sacrificed itself to keep me alive. This heart pounds when it receives less than what it needs. These legs have held me up despite my mind’s hatred for them. This voice has allowed me to say “I Love You” though my disorder has tried to silence me.

My body was built to create. My hands were beautifully crafted, built to hold those soft things I have come to adore, those hands of others whom I love, those books I have consumed. My tongue was formed to let words flow forth, to let love be shared and sweet to be tasted. My body was built as not one hope, but thousands; not one freedom, but millions; and it will not be reduced to the value of one word. My body is not ugly, it is not horrible, and fat will not hinder its beauty. There is promise in this body, promise that I will be given my chance to live this life to the fullest, promise that I will survive even what my disorder wishes me not to. I am my body, and so much more. It is the only way I may live, and for that, through it all--for that, I remain grateful.