My Body Is Good Enough

I was four when I got a tonsillectomy
I was four when I began to "put on weight"
I was, also, sexually abused when I was four
I remember hungering for some sort of comfort
My body is good
At finding ways to calm my anxious brain

I was sent to Weight Watchers in third grade
I was diagnosed with anorexia in fifth grade
My body survived a self-induced famine
Famine lowers your metabolism
My body is good
At attempting to prevent itself from devouring itself

In seventh grade I was told by a doctor that I needed to lose twenty pounds
In seventh grade I was 5'3" and weighed 150 pounds
In fifth grade I was 5'3" and weighed 79 pounds
In fifth grade my psychologist and my parents threatened to hospitalize me
If I didn't stop starving myself and gain weight
My body is good
At being a yo-yo

I was twenty-three when I got out of my latest bad relationship
I was twenty-three when I started living life for myself
I stopped drinking pop every day
I limited junk food to special occasions
(Some special occasions are when life is shitty)
My body is good
At treating itself

In my late twenties I was diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome
And told I'd have trouble conceiving when I was ready to become a mother
At thirty-five, I gave birth to an unbelievably beautiful baby
After six months of fertility treatment
My body is good
At creating life, with a little help

At thirty-six I knew I was getting old
"Of advanced maternal age" is the medical term
If I wanted a big family, I couldn't wait too long
At thirty-six I went back to the fertility doctor
And asked for a little help to get pregnant again
He told me to come back when I lost twenty pounds
I told him to fuck off
I told him my husband and I would conceive without his help
My body is good
At believing in the power of love

At thirty-seven I conceived without fertility treatment
We did it! We did it! We did it!
My husband's body and my body, together, are good
At making miracles

At thirty-seven I had a miscarriage
I never conceived again
My body is good
At grieving

A couple of years after I had a miscarriage
I got a newsletter from my fertility doctor's office
It had a big, celebratory article in it
About how my fertility doctor himself was recovering
He was only in his fifties, fit and slim, and yet he had a heart attack
His body is good
At recovering from heart surgery
My brain is good
At what the Germans call "schadenfreude"

At forty I read a book by Dr. Linda Bacon
An ironic name for a health practicioner
The book, Health at Every Size, changed my mind
The philosophy, Health at Every Size, saved my life
My body is good
At eating primarily plants, moving in pleasurable ways, and loving itself

My body is forty-six now
My body is healthier than ever
I love my husband more than ever
Our beautiful daughter never ceases to amaze me
I have the best job in the world, singing and dancing and reading stories with little kids
My body is good
At living life to its fullest

I am fat
Who knows why
I am healthy
Despite what the diet industry says
I am happy
My body is good
At celebrating both the struggles and the victories in this life

I am fat
Who knows why
I deserve love, and respect, and care
Regardless of the answer to the question of, "Why?"
My body is good
Enough