The Exchange: Jess Taught Me My Body Is Trying Its Best

Jess taught me my body is trying its best by Chima “Naira” Ikoro

and now i’m in the bathroom answering for my crimes,
visualizing the Lactaid pill that’s in the small pocket of a purse
i didn’t bring.

if anything, my bowels have taught me that everything will eventually pass
if you’ve ever had to eat lunch alone, at least you don’t have to worry about anyone smelling your farts.

“i am not intolerant. i am tolerating just fine!”
i say in front of a camera.
i wonder if my boyfriend is embarrassed that i’ve just told 214,000 people
his girl be gassy

i pray my daughter is born as shameless as i was forced to be.
if nobody likes you, it teaches you not to live to impress people
cause it’s never gonna be good enough anyway,
if i can’t be your friend i might as well settle for being myself.

at least being by myself gave me plenty of time to dance in the mirror, to arch my back
and shake.
maybe doing the worm is outdated,
but here in your room while your parents are working overtime, no one can stop you from getting on the floor and flopping around.

here in the bathroom
i’ve realized i am not going to recall this moment
the next time i eat mac and cheese and drink a redbull before an open mic.
i enjoyed my food and i’m not going to sleep tonight
and i regret nothing

and now i’m in the bathroom, answering for my crimes.
flushing in between sentences so no one knows i was ever here.
there’s a poem in there.

i will not let the fear of enzymes my body decided not to make a lot of
stop me from feeding myself.
i won’t let shame rule me, the throne is already occupied.

some times i make bad decisions,
but bad is subjective. and so are hairstyles,
and clothes,
and desirable skin tones. so are all the things
a kid could get picked on for.

when you spend time by yourself everyone’s thoughts are just suggestions
except for Gods—even still, bubble guts are suggestive
suggest you remember that being yourself means certain meals have to be eaten
alone.