Not My Maggots

(Excerpt from Landwhale)

When it comes to my relationship, there is still a part of me that worries about becoming “too much” in the long term. That my partner will eventually become exhausted from needing to address my insecurities. But every time that thought crosses my mind, he reminds me about the maggots. 

The first time I asked if it was too much to continually reassure me that my body was okay, he sat me down and explained why he would never tire of this by sharing his favorite Ghostbusters episode. 

He broke my paradigm with a goddamn Ghostbusters episode from the nineties. 

The episode he shared went something like this: The Ghostbusters were struggling with a villainous apparition that takes the shape of whatever that person was most afraid of. In true “must stretch this into a full thirty-minute show” fashion, each person tries to eradicate the ghost, each failing spectacularly, until someone realizes, “HEY! I’m not scared of what you’re scared of! We should team up and fight each other’s worst fears instead of confronting our own while alone!” They did just that, each terrifying apparition tackled by a person unaffected until they, of course, won. Hallelujah, run the credits. 

“One of the scary things was maggots,” Andy said. “And you know what? Your maggots are not my maggots. I’ll crush your maggots for you, and you can crush my maggots for me.” 

My maggots take the form of insurmountable moments of body shame, and he is determined to crush those fuckers every time. While I work to fight off body hatred, not even aiming for body love, but simply a consistent acceptance of neutrality, he does the work of loving my body for me. 

He carries the torch effortlessly. Patiently. Lovingly. It’s not hard for him. 

Our trust helps it resonate just a little bit deeper each time. I’ve got a long way to go, but I’ve also got an adorable, bearded Ghostbuster on my side.