The night I took the picture that would later become the image & idea behind (I’M NOT ASKING YOU TO LOVE ME) I’M FREE TO LOVE MYSELF, I stood in front of the mirror naked, eyeing my body and what it had become.
There was a softness in places that used to be muscular and hard.
The lines of my body blurred where clear definitions used to be easily accessed.
I stood there, and as I eyed myself, I touched and caressed this body of mine that had carried me so far, and for so many years.
Feeling the weight of my breasts in each hand.
Feeling the way my hip bones protrude beneath my skin.
The outline, the silhouette of myself in the mirror, the dips and the curves, the hollows and all the folds.
As I sat there naked, I kept my gaze on myself.
And wondered how worth can be so pent up in such small forms as the body alone.
As if somehow my worth could ever be found in the inches of my thighs, or the fullness of my breasts, or the tightness of my stomach (or lack thereof).
It seemed odd to me then, in that moment, that I could be loved any less or any more for being something other than myself.
And as I felt the beat of my heart, thud-thudding in my chest, I could see my energy as it shone outward.
I could feel my thoughts and the passion that lay beneath them.
I could feel my soul as if she were digging her heels deeply into the earth - here to stake the claim of herself - her worth as my own.
Reclaimed.
Unbound.
I didn’t ever think I would show anyone this photo of me, or make anything from it, except to document that moment as I sat there with myself.
Free.
I’m not asking you to love me.
I’m free to love myself.
I’m Not Asking You to Love Me) I’m Free to Love Myself
Mixed Media on Masonite 16’ x 20”
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