It’s new to me. The flesh that occupies what was once a bony physique. To the naked eye, it appears in all the right places; fuller C-cup bust, widened hips, a derriere that cuffs under to meet the tops of my thighs. My walk—two parts strut, one part bounce—is accompanied by light jiggling, evoking hungry glares where there was once passive appreciation.
My long, lean build remains long and lean. Stripping down tells a slightly different story. There’s a light layer of flesh around my midsection. Small folds on my once-smooth back. “It’s the cost of a curvier frame,” I’m told. This doesn’t stop me from frowning when I stare too hard in the mirror.