i am big in the city

but somehow while tenting on the ocean are walking up the mountain i do not think about it. my lungs fill themselves so much with clean air, my skin constantly exposed to the elements, my toes wet with sand i forget how much i weight. Perhaps it is the fact that there is no roof, no car to tell me how much space i take, that somehow i believe i am not that bad. average. Perhaps it is the casualness of a wardrobe how you end up living in it for a few days that it becomes skin, nothing tight or rough and confining. in the city everything is different for me. i remember, do you remember dear friend? the fancy shoes and dresses, the jeans with the simplest of white shirts. I am no longer comfortable in my own skin. i learning to like what is on the inside, but the outside not so much.