Finding the Edges of Me
Today, I felt my body. And I suppose I might need some sort of “Not R Rated” posting or disclaimer here, but hopefully, the blog title will help alleviate any concern. I am sitting here, typing, and of course, I can feel the keys under my fingers, and the rough design of the couch fabric under my legs. I can feel the coolth on the tip of my nose because the AC is running, and I can feel my heart beating. All the usual body things I expect a person feels. The rise and fall of my chest, the relief of breathing; the slight pain of the toes falling asleep. Again. But I can also, from the inside, (God I hope this makes sense) feel my body. I can feel the shape of my face, newly slender from my dance with the Corona Virus. I can feel the circumference of my waist and I can feel the skin at the front of my chest and the back of, well, my back. I can feel the outer edges of my arms and the way the skin droops, just a little, soft as leather. I can feel under my chin, ...