From Tara Sophia Mohr, a beautiful poem we had to share with you:
the pressure to have an arm that looks like that
and legs that look like that
and a belly like that
pressure to tone this to that
to be a size this
How many days have you lost?
How many murders of yourself?
How many times have you
clamped down because of it,
quieted the moon because of it,
or didn’t ask the sun to dance?
She mourned this one morning,
what would it be like, without the pressure?
-Tara Sophia Mohr