This is my body now. I’m adjusting to it, albeit slowly, but here’s the real message I want to send here: This is my body. I love my body, and it’s not yours, nor is it anyone else’s.
Just because it suddenly fits your social norms doesn’t mean I want to hear your catcalls when I walk down the street. Just because it pleases you doesn’t mean I want you to fucking touch it when I’m not looking.
In fact, I fucking don’t. And if I get one more comment about ‘how much I must get away with with tits like those’, I’m going to lose my fucking mind. I don’t even know how long I’ve been missing out on this— it’s like I’ve been ignorant to an entire spectrum of existence, and I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge them before.
My body’s been all over the spectrum my entire life, but this is the first time it’s been something that average assholes want to look at— and it’s been strange, because suddenly my shape makes people think that they can say whatever they want. It makes them think that I want their lewd comments, and that if I don’t accept them I’m the rude one. How dare I feel threatened when they think they’re complimenting me? How dare I?
I’d be afraid if I weren’t so angry.