A Pinch

By Kelcie McKenney

A pinch.

Her thumb and forefinger held fast the softness at her middle. She stood—knobby kneed in her stretched out underwear, the fabric thin from nights of tossing and turning, her t-shirt pulled up just under her breast.

A pinch, creating a spread of warmth and reddness, seeping through the skin of her belly.

And she sighed—longingly looking into the mirror at a body that didn’t feel like her own.

But it was hers. It was a body that had carried her across continents in the search of new ideas and quelched wanderlust. A body that had knelt in church pews and bedrooms—to worship both God and man in awe and wonder. A body that broke and bled and healed and moved on; carrying her into the sunrise of new tomorrows.

She didn’t recognize the form in the mirror in front of her, but she could recall the strenght and fragility of the muscles and bones, nerves and sinew that constructed who she was.

That thumb and forefinger relaxed, her shirt dropping down to cover the red blotch of insecurity already beginning to fade. She looked directly into the eyes of her reflection.

Her body had changed, but so had she.


Kelcie McKenney is a writer, editor, and artist who is passionate about feminism. She currently works as Strategy Director at The Pitch , where she writes and edits for Kansas City’s alternative magazine. You can find Kelcie on Instagram with #kcdaddy, where she talks about her three-legged cat Luna, thrift finds, and ways to overthrow the patriarchy.


Photo by Good Bodies.

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