i stare at you in the mirror and
my fingers creep down your edges
what once were curved like
rolling hills on the skyline are now
flat like razed earth and hard in places
i hadn’t felt before
i don’t know when you started shrinking
it happened so rapidly last year but
somehow i didn’t see it til
i came across a picture taken 5 months prior
I wake up alone in bed. A winter chill has somehow drifted through the window I struggled to shut the night before. All I can do is pull the covers around me and huddle for warmth.
Sometimes I take pictures of my books. I pull my favorites from their carefully selected spots on my shelf, and put them on top of my blanket, where the sunlight is shining. Sometimes I put them next to a cup of tea, or a small bundle of fake flowers. After I take my pictures, I edit and post them on my Instagram account dedicated to books, aka bookstagram.
A few months ago, our very own Iris intern and my personal style icon, Laura Hinnenkamp, shared with us a number of places she has cried in public. I loved this piece, mostly because I had never felt comfortable letting people know I was very much a crier in public spaces. But f*** that because I am a huge crier.
About a year ago, I started on a journey towards building a sustainable wardrobe. I wrote a final paper for my feminist theory class on how fast fashion retailers (specifically Zara) target the “neoliberal female subject.” I felt like these clothing companies were way too prevalent in my brain, and I needed some distance from the cycle.
