Maturity.

This is an assignment I wrote while in treatment. My dietitian was curious why I had such an aversion to weight gain and to femininity. She actually asked if I was trans, or if I would rather be a man than a woman, to which I replied I would rather be neither. I would rather be a child. Anyway, this was a journel assignment I had been given on the connotations of “weight”.

“Flesh. In German the word is Fleisch, it means meat. In Spanish its Carne, carnal, something dirty and primal to be lusted after and repented for. Flesh is expansive and I resent it; its soft and so human and so vulnerable. Adam and Eve covered themselves in shame because the vulnerability of their flesh was too heavy to bear. I exist this way, reaching for whatever meagre resources my surroundings offer, to hide that flesh. I hide in shrinking. I reduce the shame inherent in my flesh by reducing the flesh itself. I shrink the area it occupies. I break down and destroy the most human part of myself, my skin. I don’t like being human. I don’t like being. I am self-hatred trapped in a flesh cage. I hate myself right down to a molecular level and I want it to suffer. I can’t hate myself sufficiently and be healthy. Be full. Be full-figured. Nourished. So I must continue this assault against my flesh.

The Venus of Willendorf was a fertility Idol. Prehistoric pornography. Full breasts and full hips with a pendulous belly; she is an abundance of flesh and of health proudly flaunting her ability to conceive and bear life with her body. It is demanded in her heaviness. I am repulsed and fascinated by this piece of art. I live in fear of becoming ripe like her, full like her. It terrifies me far more than death. Gaining weight and watching as the borders of my skin expand, means watching as the hatred I hold in my body, expands with it. Losing weight manages that hatred and keeps it at bay. It protects me, even if only on a superficial level, from having to exist like her. From having to exist at all.”