Hip Replacement at Twenty-One

i spent way too long worrying 
    about whether 

                my round hips would fit into skinny    jeans    or get stuck 
    a third of the way through    confused    longing 
for direction 

today, i worry whether my legs 
    can take me 

                to the grocery store    before    my hip joint starts tearing
    before the hurt shoots    through the roof    of my labrum 
and my body has to lie 

                down on the pavement, waiting
for pain to pass

i spent way too long researching 
    diets, studying 

                the how to be attractive    manual    society has mass-produced 
    and distributed to all women    upon birth    with a no
return policy

i read and read 
    nutrition 
labels 
                        failing to understand     failing 
    to provide nutrition    until it wasn’t a matter of sustenance
until it became    a matter 
                                       of 
                                           survival

today, i worry whether my body
    would ever 

                        be able to carry    its own weight    without    crutches i worry
    my weight is not a number    it is a state    of mind with too
much power    and not enough reason

i worry my weight forgot
    self-love

i worry my weight doesn’t
    go to therapy

                        my body spent way too long glued    to tv screens 
     and magazine covers glossy    with smiles    of thin hourglass
women    my body was starving    craving    attention 

                        and rocky road ice cream    
my body was giving 
     in to temptations then tearing 
                        itself apart    by the toilet bowl 

today, i worry my right hip
     is upset i am looking

                        for its replacement     i never meant to hurt it
     when my body swiped right    on me     and i promised
we are in this     together

i spent way too long separating
     my body  &
                        me

                        i forgot how to be thankful    for the healthy body     i had 
     for the woman’s body    for the body protected
until it became a prematurely

                      old body    a body of an artist expiring    and i am left 
     collecting its pieces    icing its crevices    putting together 
a functional frame     of a

female body recovering