“How am I reclaiming my body?”

My friend Haley asked me this for a challenge she started. This challenge is the whole reason you are even reading this right now. I ponder the question. A few answers pop up, then I push them away thinking they are too personal, so I say I will go to back to thinking about it later. I mindlessly watch TV and zone out, but the tantalizing question keeps whispering in my ear, and finally an hour later, I confront it.

I reclaim my body every day I no longer cut its beautiful, unique shade of carmel- honey-brown-sugar skin and in return, the counter on my phone applauds me by tallying another day clean. I reclaim my body with every morsel of food I eat to nourish it. Is it fun to have to force yourself to eat sometimes? Or realize it’s 10 p.m. and you’ve gotten through another day without food and find satisfaction in that, but also sadness because it’s not fair to yourself? Absofreakinglutely not. With every sip of water I drink, my body silently thanks me.

Every cigarette I don’t smoke anymore and pollute my lungs with is a victory after seven years of wasted money, stinking clothes and rotting breath. I reclaim my body when I remind myself it is mine and nobody else’s and that I am in control from here on out. It’s revolutionary when I have the small “it wasn’t your fault” moments and feel I no longer have to feel like a victim. They are few and far between, but those are moments to be cherished. I reclaim my body when I see myself as more than my physical body and include my beautiful, brilliant, creative and afflicted mind as part of my whole self. I am not the sum of my physical parts.