Here's Who It's Okay To Share A

My Fears Came True: People Called Me Fat And Hideous, And I Lived. And Now I Keep Living.

My Weight Fluctuates Depending On My Mood And My Current Devotion To My Fitness Routine.

I Wanted To Be A Poet. I Had A Really Romantic Idea About What That Would Mean. My Parents Knew Some Poets, And I Liked How They Dressed And Acted, But I Didn't Really Acknowledge That I Only Liked Reading Some Bits Of Poetry While I Was Peeing Or Something.

I Shared A Bed With My Sister, Grace, Until I Was Seventeen Years Old. She Was Afraid To Sleep Alone And Would Begin Asking Me Around 5:00 P.m. Every Day Whether She Could Sleep With Me. I Put On A Big Show Of Saying No, Taking Pleasure In Watching Her Beg And Sulk, But Eventually I Always Relented. Her Sticky, Muscly Little Body Thrashed Beside Me Every Night As I Read Anne Sexton, Watched Reruns Of Snl, Sometimes Even As I Slipped My Hand Into My Underwear To Figure Some Stuff Out.

I'm Really Lucky Because My Sister Is A Real Activist Soul And Also Hyper-intellectualized In This Way That's Really Allowed Me To Wrap My Mind Around Some Of The Bigger Intellectual Concepts And Really Understand The Language Around Identity In The Gender Nonconforming Community.