ESSAY by VON
PHOTOGRAPH by TYLER HAAGE
My contoured ab lines glisten under the man-made strobe. I suck and tuck and bend, becoming married to the illusion that bruised knees and an arched back are simply accentuating the natural curvature of my body. A contorted spine, perpetually flexed calves. To him, just my casual posture. I think back to the days of youth travel soccer, and the PTSD of running 300’s til my legs gave out. I think of my uncle's friends who stared at me too long during every funeral. I think of the hours I spent in the mirror as a girl— wishing, rejoicing, and regretting. I have never known what I look like; I don’t think most women do. But I’ve always known what I’m perceived as.
