Once upon a universe, my broad shoulders and footballfield hips carried between them a disproportionately narrow waist of which I was inordinately proud, revelling in the opportunity to strip topless and show off not my boobies -- but my waist.
Just now I caught a reflection in the ultralarge corporate bathroom mirror, and noticed how drastically my body has changed in just a few short weeks. My waist is nearly straight now, the abdominal divets that I developed over countless diaphragm singing exercises still present, but only as a faint tribute to what once was.
My teeny titties on the other hand, already stretching past a D-cup from the not-quite-B they've always been (earning me the typical "flat as a wall" jeering in high school) are now ponderous enough to get in the way of bedroom acrobatics, or even conversations with not very professional professionals.
I've lived with the pitfalls and rollercoasters of this body for years now, memorizing every divet so as to present myself as confidently as possible in my objective universe. All of a sudden, the only thing I recognize are my hands, and face. My ankles are as thick as they were incongruously thin, my hips as wide as horses, but my fingers and neck remain slender as if to decry the hidden femininity behind my swift adjustment to the decreased expectation of stylishness from yours preggo-truly.
I'm playing with words, but remembering forever this magic storm that has overtaken my body and made it into something entirely new.
I have always revered change, tattooed it on my shoulder, and here I am living it at impossible speed.