The Day I Stopped Apologizing

The first change was my weight.
Not pounds on a scale,
Not the circumference of my waist.
I just decided to take up more space
The day I stopped apologizing.

And my words? They changed next.
They too carried more weight
And tumbled, clumsy and unabated
Unwelcome and too much
Or too little, depending on whom you asked
The day I stopped apologizing.

No longer sorry about the me in myself,
I stopped asking and doing and just started being.
At home in my skin,
No longer cursing my hormones,
I made friends with my parts
(Especially the ones that had been the subject
of boys’ jokes years ago).

The day I took up more space,
I stopped apologizing
For laughing too loud or speaking too low,
For buying too much yarn or too little bread,
For wasting an afternoon waiting for a glimpse of hummingbirds,
For changing my clothes
Or my mind
Or my profile picture
Or my career plans
Or my favorite color, coffee or movie.

“I am sorry,” I said to myself,
The day I stopped apologizing.