Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

I don’t try to force my body to be something or deprive it of pleasantness. It just is. And I like it, enough, as is.

He looks up to the ceiling as if he’s searching for some deity to help him handle me. I like that a lot.

He’s so gorgeous, yet clearly oblivious of that fact. It’s as endearing as it is frustrating.

Plus, I think some people have loneliness built in. It often seemed that there was not enough attention in the world that could fill that void inside her. I worry that I only recognize that because I have it too.

I, like most women my age, have learned to hate myself just enough to appease others. If you’re too fond of how you look, you’re told you’ll be unlikeable. Labeled as self-involved, egotistical, or stuck-up. But it’s purposeful—pitting us against one another. Consumerism demands we remain unsatisfied with our appearance. If we all liked ourselves, dozens of industries would crumble like Babylon.

The surfer with one arm, the mountain climber with no legs, a drummer with one hand. And, deep down, I knew I should be proud of them. They were my community, and they were only working to erase stigma for the rest of us. But I didn’t feel proud. I felt bitter. Jealous too. Angry that they weren’t just great surfer, record-breaking mountain climber, and successful drummer. To me, they were a reminder that the world would always view me differently—put me in a different bracket—even if I landed myself on a pedestal.

That scared me far worse than Jack’s temper ever did. The power that I had given him to validate my desirability. The power I could give to someone else if I was foolish enough. So I decided I wouldn’t give anyone that power ever again. Not until I love myself enough that someone’s favor—or disfavor—won’t turn the tide.

Sometimes the people who haunt us are still alive. I understand that too.

Bo is clearly the type of guy who takes people under his wing. A natural caretaker type. It makes me glad to know that my kid will have a dad who goes above and beyond for the people he cares about.

It’s so much easier to communicate insecurities when you don’t need to communicate them at all. Isn’t that all we ever want? To be seen and heard? Validated, even when we’re not able to ask for it.

I wish I knew you then, I think to myself. I’d have found him there, in that dark period. Sat with him in it. Until very recently, I was there too. Perhaps that’s all Bo and I are. Two people leaving behind the worst, looking forward to the good to come.

“That’s the question I was going to ask tonight,” Bo interrupts. “Who in this world matters the most to you?” “You,” I answer simply, pleading with him to hear me. What I said and all that it means. “You,” he repeats. “It’s you for me too. With a very close second,” he says, his eyes on my belly.

I’m glad that the baby won’t struggle in the ways I have. I feel happy for them. Then consider if I shouldn’t. Afterward, I’m sad for the life experience they’ll miss out on. That they’ll never know how existing in a body that the world is not designed to accommodate can create so many avenues of empathy for others who are experiencing the same thing for a variety of reasons. The determination and the resilience that come from that. The community it cultivates. The unique bond we could have shared.

Robert tilts his head into his palm, listening to me with a warm grin—an almost proud expression. “Joanna would have loved you, you know. You have her same…care. I can tell life has not been easy or always kind to you, but you haven’t let it turn you hard. Not like a stone. You became like water. You move with it all. You’re soft…but powerful.”

Our souls were tied a long time ago, I think. We’re just finally admitting it to each other.

“I love you, Win. I love you so much it makes me feel like I’ve hated everything else in my life up until now. Nothing compares to what I feel for you. Not even close.”

“You are my soul’s purpose, Win. To know you, to love you, to build a family with you, to spend every day taking care of you, to watch you shine and get all the good things you deserve out of this life.”

“And I’ll be up there to catch you if your leg gives out.” He laughs. “Is the phrase still ‘swept off your feet’ if you only have one? Swept off your foot? Swopt? No, that’s not a word.”