My therapist asked me to write down 'things I like about myself' today. I stared at the blank page for twenty minutes until the ink dried up. Then I came home, locked my door, and stripped in front of my mirror. I tried to see what the romance novels describe - 'radiant beauty', 'womanly curves'. Instead I just saw the fat rolls on my stomach when I sit down and the stretch marks on my hips. I touched my body anyway, trying to be kind. My hand drifted between my legs and I rubbed my clit, trying to imagine a guy loving every inch of me first. But I know how I really look when I'm naked and spread - desperate, red, messy. My tits are heavy and too low. My cunt gets too wet, too easily. Even when I'm trying to be gentle with myself, my body just screams 'use me, throw me away'. Maybe that's the only thing I'm good for. (Mood: broken)