So I have IBS and have started to watch what I eat and drink because I want to feel comfortable and loose weight but by doing this I shall be saying goodbye to my wheat baby. For years I hated this aspect but used it to hide behind. Tiny man otter with a huge exaggerated almost pot belly, ugly, hideous, uncomfortable in his own skin and obvious. The Mask wasn’t just his face but his whole body his whole being. I hid inside that deformed shell crying. Then I jumped but he had left me with a worthless body. Sometimes when I’m out shopping on my own or with my daughters and I’m swollen I rub the top of it like I’m pregnant. I don’t yearn to have a baby. I’m already a mum of two gorgeous girls. No this feel, this touch, this rub is almost abstract. Like I’m creating an image. Performance. Pretending. It’s fun. It feels real. Hiding again maybe. I rub the top and talk to this imaginary child inside of me. Telling her my secrets. Like a moebius loop of pain and relief all connected through absent minded natural touch.
I deleted that rough wheat baby image.. realised I hadn’t edited it properly.. Doh.