Public Domain

My body has always been public domain.

From a young age, my mother constantly attacked it.

My great-grandmother fed me every “natural” concoction to shrink it.

The first thing friends and family said to me was either:

“You’ve lost weight!” or “You’ve gained weight”.

Boyfriends introduced me as “she’s fat, but she’s nice”.

My childhood bestie gently suggested I lose weight to increase my chances with her brother.

And then there were the not-so-nice friends who wanted to call a crane for my 150 lb frame.

Some comments were even more inaccurate.

Like my mother telling my great-grandma that my breasts were the size of udders when I was 10.

I never gave consent.

I never gave permission.

It was my body, but everyone thought they had a right to it.

Even the rapist said, “It’ll do” when he first saw me naked.

I was a pound of flesh to everyone.

Then you ask why I don’t like pictures.

You wonder why I hide under clothing.

Your voices carried.

They still echo in my head.