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“My Brain Tells Lies and My Body Is At War” by Margot Stillings



Content Warning: this poem references mental disorders, disordered eating, and sexual assault.



that afternoon

the therapist said two words

body dysmorphia

that was all my ears could hear

so I examined my thighs

and I criticized the shape of my knees

and I ignored her as she laid it all out there

her words fell out of her mouth and into my lap

a lap that always felt too much

because the way that I feel when I sit bare-legged

the vitamin deficiency that made little dots form

the dry winter skin that made me grow scales

the divots left from weight gain and loss

because of course I never learned what health felt like

body dysmorphia

she went on for a few minutes

and I imagined a swift 34 scenarios

maybe if I didn't see my body the way it was

maybe that means I can't hear the way someone says it

maybe of course I can't trust my instincts on living

maybe of course this was how my heart so often betrayed me

maybe the body dysmorphia was how I didn't see anything how it was

every single I love you

every single compliment

every single criticism

that afternoon

she gave me words for the part of me that explained

all the other parts of me that were always at war with each other

and every well-meaning person that had felt the need

to make a comment of my changing body over the years

like the year I only consumed peach iced tea and white cheddar popcorn

until my shoulder blades became razor-sharp

like the year I was assaulted in a bar

and gained as much weight as I could

so that men would stop addressing me

with their hands and eyes

like the year I surrendered the war and let my thighs breathe free

because he said he loved every part of me before he could touch me

body dysmorphia

two words for all the ways we fuck ourselves

in the name of control

in the name of protection

body dysmorphia

for how we live in a body that carries more shame than cells

for how my brain tells me lies about my thighs

when really my thighs just hold the rest of me up

all the trauma so I can stand

so I can live

so I can be loved

so I can be here

even on the days when I can't stand in front of the mirror

especially on the days when I can't trust myself to see myself

body dysmorphia

two words

for war and lies



Margot Stillings is a storyteller, photographer and cocktail napkin poet. She resembles a housecat most days: paws bare on hardwood floors and lounging in sunbeams.

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