Today while listening to Regina Spektor’s “Folding Chair,” I was struck by a few lines in the middle of the song. I thought her words—gorgeous and wise, as they always are—might impact others as much as they did me, so I doodled up some eyelashes and wanted to share.
Spektor expresses so earnestly a truth that I think all of us forget: our bodies are faulty and flawed, flabby and bony, pockmarked and scarred, but ultimately perfect just because they do what they’re supposed to do. It’s easy to get caught up in everything we dislike about our bodies, but there’s such beauty in their gloriously simple, incomprehensibly complex functions: in the details of a fingernail bed, the process of a breath, all the millions of synapses that spark speech and thought and movement. It really puts into perspective, for me, just how wonderful it is to have a body at all, especially one that performs relatively well. For today, at least, I am finding joy in the simple act of being in my body (my perfect body!).