Skin Sack and Poop Factory

What a title.  Bear with me.

In a conversation with my boyfriend some weeks back, the idea of self-image came up. 

I divulged that when I think of myself as a physical being, the first thing that comes to mind is a misshapen skin sack.  The skin of my body: scars, tattoos, fat, hair, rashes, acne, and all the makeup I can pile on top.  When I think of my body, I think of its skin.  I picture myself a rumbling bumbling bouncy rubbery flappy skin bag, clumsily fumbling through the world.  A conglomeration of tragic flaws and attempted repairs.  Kind of like a taffy pull, but with hair and teeth jammed in it.

Ew.

My boyfriend said that his physical image of himself is a poop factory.  Oh yeah.  Taking in food, putting out waste – an ebb and flow of nutrients, digesting and ingesting, taking in, going out.  This struck me as beautiful.  Yes!  A beautiful factory of poo!  A constantly moving and working and so functional, so zen vision of oneself to have, whereas I…

I cannot get past the surface.  Even on days when I feel like a beautiful skin sack stuffed into clothes, I still know the icky sticky truth underneath.  The struggle.  Am I allowing myself to be defined by the gaze of others too much?  Do you think that’s unhealthy?

When you think about your body, how do you see yourself?  As a brain in a machine?  As a river of blood through your circulatory system?  Are you a Skin Sack or a Poop Factory, too? 

2 thoughts on “Skin Sack and Poop Factory

  1. See, his is the main reason I would want to become a vampire. I would not have to have all these icky bodily fluids to deal with. Literally anytime I watch True Blood I think " I am so jealous that they never have to go to the bathroom. "

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