if it were easy as sliding off clothing, then this silicon city would have memorized every inch of me, climbed its eyes up a detailed count of vertebrae, measured the naked, cellulite sway of my hips, noted the ungraceful tremble of my thighs, breasts and stomach if it were simple as shedding skin, my flesh would have fallen like peels of fruit at my feet but the truth of me is buried so much deeper than blood, and every day is a fight to share my secrets with myself
