c is for cat

Rules for Anchorites

Letters from Proxima Thule

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Yes to every word of this. Every word.

For me, the worst part of this self hate is that it has bled into other things in my life. I never got to be beautiful. I got to be smart. They told me for as long as I can remember, "You're so beautiful, you just have baby fat. Don't worry, it will go away."

That was at 12.

I heard so much "You're beautiful, you just need to lose weight..." that I never got to buy into the secrets I thought I saw in my face in the mirror. See, secretly, I believed it. I never got to wear what I wanted though. My mother picked out my clothes all through high school and it wasn't until college years and later that my friends helped me pick out what *I* might like, what looked good on me.

By then, of course, it was too late and I was still and always fat and it never mattered what I put on, even if I was fucking hot and people were starting to see it. I mean, I still tried--and it worked for a while, just a brief few years here and there, where I was happy with my body and believed I was beautiful despite the evil demon in my head saying, "But you're fat."

Well, I am now, I really am, and I hate it.

Know what other thing that happened, though? Once I was in a relationship, going to get married? (The only thing beauty is ultimately for) Now, suddenly, I was not as successful as my siblings. Not in a high paying a job. I was the oldest, always the smartest. And now?

"You used to be smart."

I stopped writing. I stopped LJing. I am very quiet now. I fear arguments because I feel too fucking stupid to write well enough to...write or defend myself.

These demons are related. It is the last that has me standing in this cave in the Underworld, in this space in the Labyrinth, picking up a sword. I want my voice back, my mind, my body. I want to go back to loving people but not letting the fear of what they think cast this spell that has changed me into some kind of goblin.

If I get to be a goblin, it's a wild girl eating goblin fruit, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth and huge bones and curves and oh yes, you'll see every bit of embarrassing shit you fear, that you read in the text on my body. This space in the maze, this cave, is mine.

The monster girl wants out.

And...I love you for all of this, for how beautiful you are. I have always thought you were, you know. Beautiful. And hot and badass and dangerous and smart and just...cool. I'd like to sit and spin with you and watch TV and talk some more and cook you things. (For I also want to grow up to be both my gramma and Baba Yaga at the same time.)

And I hope you come to town soon.

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