Freddy Nyezi
i often wonder what it must feel like to love yourself; to wake up in the morning without having already evaluated every single thing that’s (not) wrong with you. to not wake up into the nightmare of your mind going over the same self-deprecating thoughts like a hamster stuck <forever> running on a wheel.
(sometimes i feel like that hamster; fat and podgy and furry and stocky, and i wonder if i should be running on that wheel, too. i would probably break that wheel. i’m too heavy to tread lightly.)
i often wonder what it’s like to smile without having to worry about what the next person thinks of your crooked, jagged, squattercamp teeth. these all-white figurines who know nothing of leaving some personal space between them. these pale pickets that guard my tongue, that i sometimes want to correct with barbed wire. i am grateful to my hand for instinctively rushing to camouflage my mouth when i laugh — too bad it cannot mute that crude guffaw.
i think i’m envious of people who don’t cause the earth to quake with their quivering thighs, who can wear their stomachs out without having to worry about judgemental eyes, who can fit into jeans without being surprised, whose eating habits aren’t speculated and surmised.
i really want to know what it’s like to go shopping for clothes without feeling bad for wanting to look good,
or walk into a changing room without wanting to change parts of yourself or feeling like your mammoth body has to
squeeeeeeze
itseeeeeeeelf
insiiiiiide
the cubicle.
i wonder what it’s like to not constantly remember for yourself that you are the heaviest person in the room, the elephant in the room.
i dream of one day being comfortable to pose for a photo, to smile for one, to have a series of tangible memories to look (back) at and to show of to other people, to wear whatever the fuck i want and know that i look good, to want someone with all my heart and mind and body and being and not having to ask myself if they’re into fat men.
and,
when someone hurts me deeply and chooses another
(despite me or to spite me or because they despise me)
to know that my big body is a gentle reminder that:
i am not lacking,
i should be so full of myself that others have to squeeze themselves into my liking,
im not a heavy weight for people to carry,
and that,
i don’t need to shed anything besides the intrusive thoughts.
i dream of remembering one day that my big body exists to mean to me that i am whole.
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