I am not my bag. My bag is not me.

Since starting this blog, I feel like I have been able to start removing myself from the subject position of freak, which is a label I have constantly struggled against assigning myself since having the surgery.

When I first looked in the mirror, the first thing I always saw was the bag, and behind the bag was a freak. More and more, when I look into the mirror naked, I can see myself.

And when I stand naked in front of my boyfriend, I feel like he can see me and not the bag of poo that before seemed to be in the way.

Things are still processing. I've created some strange psychological distortions of myself over the years and they maybe will never be totally overcome. I know my bag has gotten in the way of me seeing myself as me and instead, often has me filtering many experiences through some conceptions I have of a reconfigured me that resulted from surgery. It's not fair to let my ostomy obscure the other very real parts of who I am.

For now, it's enough that I can say to myself that I don't feel like a freak. I don't remember what movie this was from, but Geena Davis, in some New York accent says to some arrogant guy 'get over yerself.' I got over myself in my early twenties; now I'm trying to get over my ileostomy.