I have "bad" skin. It’s not as bad as it used to be, but I still have holes, pits, scars, blackheads, pimples. It’s hard for me to even write those words, and for reasons I can’t fully understand I feel shame – or maybe embarrassment is a better word. As a fat activist for over two decades you would think that I could talk about my skin with the ease I talk about my fat. … [Read more...]
Rejecting Perfectionism and Learning To Love My Scars
Even though I know no body is perfect — unblemished — it’s very difficult for me to come to terms with acquiring a new scar. The moment I start to feel the physical pain, I also begin berating myself for being careless — or wishing I could go back in time to not do the thing that will leave a permanent mark. In addition to being aesthetically unpalatable to me as a recovering … [Read more...]
More Than My Scars: Radical Self-love and the Self-injured Body
I have never forgotten the first time I cut into my own flesh deliberately: the motes of dust in the air lit by a late afternoon sunbeam; the threadbare sofa in my dorm room where I sat; the blue-handled scissors that I held open for what seemed an eternity; the expanse of pale, clear skin on the inside of my forearm before I brought the scissors down against it. My skin has … [Read more...]

The Body Is Not an Apology
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