It bothers me that my body bothers me. I act like it doesn't. Once, to freak out an old roommate, I even walked around our house completely naked. The thing is my body does everything it needs to do to keep me running, it lets me talk, and walk, and eat, and shit and so I should not complain that my right breast is so much bigger, or that my waist bears scars from when I grew too tall, too fast.
It shouldn't even matter for sex, really. I should not be apologetic. There is no correlation between the roundness of my tummy and the tightness of my sex, or my skills at making a lover cum.
So why do I imagine myself otherwise endowed? It does matter, but why?
No comments:
Post a Comment