A Book of Blood

Clive Barker once said:

“Everybody is a book of blood; whenever we are opened, we are red.”

As I’m sitting here taking a piss, I look to my right and see how destroyed my skin is from years and years of fluctuating weight. What’s hilarious in the most ironic way, is people online who think that my body is this perfect creation without flaw.

Ha, quite the contrary. I’m riddled in stretch marks, my skin is loose on my arms, legs, and a little around my midriff, and my skin is scarred from my OCD. If social media teaches us one thing, it’s that nobody really knows the truth. I don’t particularly like showing my body much anymore, as the inundation with disgusting penis pics—and sometimes asshole pics (I don’t know, don’t ask) had gotten to the point that I wanted to scream.

There was a point in my life that I really did think my sexuality was the polestar in becoming noticed, and stupidly, the more I lost weight during my abuse, the more I basked in the superficiality of it all. Well, those days are long gone, and I could truly give a fuck less about winning a beauty contest. I mean, I still care, but I don’t give a shit about impressing anyone but Jim and my mom.

I think it’s very easy as a woman to become immersed in a culture of perfection, and the horrible effects it has. Long-term, the damage done can be irreversible, and everyday we open our apps we see the homogenization taking place. I often times miss my slimmer appearance, but I realized that being a robot and serving a Matrix does nothing but prove how ignorant I am.

Everybody is a book of blood, and everybody bleeds like me, you, and everyone else around us. I struggled for a long time about the skin that covers my meaty interior, and I realized that scars, bumps, and thin skin is actually kind of rad. Whenever I get a bug bite, I scratch and develop a wicked speckled effect (like the photo above.)

People don’t respect me for how I look; they respect me for what I can do. This was something I missed forever ago, and it’s something I think all women and men should grow to understand.

Looks sell, sex sells, bodies sell; there is no denying a cold, hard fact, but eventually, there’s always someone more beautiful, more buff, and more sexy. It’s something I think everyone prior generation reiterates to the next of kin, but always strive to do something different. This is what separates you from EVERYTHING.

Anybody can look a certain way, but doing something that leaves ‘Em speechless…that’s what counts. And if you’re struggling today and need someone to shake you by the shoulders and say, “IT IS JUST SKIN” I’ll do it.

You’re ALL beautiful. Period.