When nobody is around to make me feel wrong, then yes I love my body.
It is an endearingly odd and durable animal.
It handles starvation and dehydration well.
It remains pretty strong, even without training.
It is a climby, jumpy, hidy, punchy, bitey thing - that scurries.
I would like to scurry faster, I scurry a bit slow, but I'm scrappy so it makes up for it.
I love it almost the same way you would love a horse.
It is a living extension of myself.
From a naturalist point of view there is nothing wrong with it.
When I was little, and nobody cared to look at me like *that*, I liked that it was unique and mine.
I like my hair, my smells, my scars, the weird noises I make -
the squishy bits, the tough bits, the excitable oozy bits.
I enjoy swinging my arms and moving my legs, when nobody is around to point out it is weird.
I don't particularly care that the breasts are misshaped or the body is abnormal looking,
until it is viewed by others and they point out that it is undesirable. Then I feel wrong.
In the wilderness my body is functional and I'm just another animal, but I get lonely.
It's then I wish I was more sexually normal presenting,
not to lose any of what I have, just leaning more normal female presenting.
I'm not sure at what cost to the horse I know that would come.
In a better world someone would love my weird body the way I do,
because they see what I see, more than it's reproductive appeal, aesthetic appeal or conformity.
