Regina

I need you to just read this before reacting.

I have not said anything because I did not want to look crazy. I did not want to accuse someone of something without being sure. But I cannot keep pretending I am not noticing it.

Her name is Regina.

I did not plan on giving her a name. It just came out one day.

I started noticing little things. The way his hand goes to her when he thinks I am not looking. The way he touches her absentmindedly. Like it is habit. Like it is familiar.

And the worst part is he does not even realize I see it.

I see it.

I see the way his hand finds her automatically. The way he rests there for a second longer than necessary. The way it looks comfortable for him.

Too comfortable.

It happens when we are standing in the kitchen.

It happens when we walk past each other.

It happens when we are just existing in the same space.

It even happens when we are in bed.

That is the part that made my stomach drop.

Because when it happens there, it feels intentional. It feels intimate.

His hand.

Her.

And sometimes before I can stop myself, I say it.

"Don’t touch her."

Half joking. Half not.

And here is where it gets layered.

When I was little...When my dad picked me up for the weekend and I would not stop crying after having to leave my mom. I would sit in the passenger seat. He would flip down the visor mirror in front of me so I could see my tear streaked face. Then he would point at the reflection and say, “Who’s that?”

And I would sniffle and look at myself.

And he would say, “Is that Angelina?”

Angelina became the other girl in the mirror. The one who was braver. The one who could stop crying. The one who could handle the weekend. The one who laughed.

It distracted me. It helped. It turned pain into something playful. Into one of my most fond memories with my Dad.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that when something feels overwhelming or uncomfortable, you separate it from yourself. You name it. You give it identity.

Regina probably came partly from Angelina.

And partly from Mean Girls, because if I was going to name something dramatic, of course it would be Regina.

Now Regina has become this second physical personality.

Not another mind.

Not another self.

But another part of my body that feels separate from me.

Because the truth is, Regina is attached to me.

Literally.

She is the curve on my right hip that sticks out more than the left.

I have a left rotated hemipelvis. When In High school got hurt during tumbling practice and fell backwards on a beam. My spine not only got thrown out of alignment ,but my pelvis rotated to the left, the left side shifts slightly forward and upward and the right side rotates backward. That rotation changed how weight is distributed. It forced compensation. Muscles tightened on one side and lengthened on the other. The whole structure adapted to keep me upright.

On my body, that adaptation shows up on the right side of my hip.

It creates a visible difference.

A protrusion that looks exaggerated to me because I stare at it more than anyone else ever would.

Almost like a growing mass if you stare at it too long. Not a tumor. Just imbalance. Just rotation. Just mechanics.

Chiropractic adjustments help for a few days. I feel aligned. Balanced. Even. Then my body slowly slides right back into the same rotation. It never fully sticks. It never fully stays.

My mom bought an SI joint belt for my back pain. When I wear it, it stabilizes my pelvis, and helps with pain along the entire spine. Especially my lower lumbar.

It also compresses that side. It covers her...

For a moment everything looks symmetrical.

And I feel relief.

Not just physically.

Emotionally.

My physical therapist is working on retraining it now. Strengthening what is weak. Lengthening what is tight. Trying to get my pelvis to stay neutral instead of defaulting back into rotation.

Maybe one day it will hold.

Maybe one day I will stand evenly and not think about her.

Maybe one day Regina will not feel like such a presence.

If I could get rid of her, I have thought about it.

Not because she is another woman.

But because she feels like the part of me that makes me insecure.

But she is not separate.

She is part of me.

For now...she is not leaving.

And what I have noticed is this.

Adrian is not leaving either.

He stays.

When I am rotated.

When I am in pain.

When I am insecure.

And sometimes I joke about her like she is a third party because it is easier than admitting I have an insecurity about that side of my body.

When I am trying to fix it.

So when I say don’t touch her, it sounds dramatic.

But he is just simply resting his hand on his wife’s hip.

But underneath it is something real.

He sees it, he understands it now.

He has his own insecurities.

Maybe this started as something silly...

Maybe it started as a dramatic joke about another woman I was writing

But somewhere in the middle of it, I realized it is not just funny.

It is honest.

I am not an insecure person.

But I do have an insecurity.

There is a difference.

This one specific part of my body has been something I have noticed for years. Something I angle away from in photos. Something I shift around in certain outfits. Something that does not disappear no matter how much weight changes, no matter how much effort I put in, no matter how much I wish it looked like the left side.

It is not about hating my body.

It is about learning to live with the one part that does not sit the way I want it to.

And maybe you have something like that too.

Maybe you have a Regina.

Maybe yours is not on your hip.

Maybe it is a lazy eye you were born with.

Maybe it is a snaggle tooth.

Maybe it is a scar from surgery.

Maybe it is stretch marks that never faded.

Maybe it is something that changed after an accident.

Maybe it is something that developed slowly over time because of an illness.

Maybe it is something no one else really notices but you.

Something you cover.

Something you adjust for.

Something that will not go away no matter how disciplined you are.

You are not alone in that.

Maybe next time you catch yourself hiding something about your body, I hope you remember Regina.

As a reminder that some things are not flaws as you see them, and The one who loves you will truly love all of you.

Sometimes the part you are trying to erase is simply the part that learned how to carry you.

“For I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”- Psalm 139:14

Kristen, Unfiltered Xo 💋