The Face of a Pornstar

He slid into my DMs like a snake, ready to strike at the first sign of insecurity. He was poised and enchanting with his words flowing and weighing as if they weren’t about to bite and fill me up with venom.

“You must think you are beautiful. But I’ve seen you. You do have the face of a pornstar, but you have the body of a binge eater.”

Strike. Pain. Blood. Tears.

As he slithered off without an explanation, I ran to the bathroom to bandage my wounds. I slid my fingers across my chiseled jawbone. My lips were puffy and naturally sat slightly parted. My face was pale... but from the nasty words or from my genes? My neck, long and slender, sat betwixt my collarbones.

Bones. In my pictures, you saw bones. In the mirror or in person? My hands inched across my heavy bosom as if they were afraid of another attack. They made their way across my stomach and traced the bumps and bulges and stretch marks.

Assessing the damage, I turn to see my figure from the side. Large thighs and a curvy set of hips stared back. Skin and fat living proudly in every area between.

I may have a face like a pornstar, but I have the body of a goddess in a renaissance painting. I held life in the belly that I carry around and I enjoy the delicacy of being alive without worrying.

Snakes continue to bite. But the damage is nothing compared to my self worth.