"Thanks." I blushed.
"Keep them." He smiled.
"I'm not afraid," I whisper in the face of my fear.
I stare intently at them--skin, fat, muscle, bone. I see them in that moment, not as sexual objects, commodities, or enemies, but as friends. Friends who have taken me over mountains and through marathons. Friends who permit me to pull weeds, lift boxes, go to work, climb fences, and dance. Friends whose loss I would mourn deeply. I massage them with my thumbs.
We are thriving.
Such a good body.