Guest post from Off Leash News
I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming. I saw it everywhere: A sign announces a new apartment complex, subsequent and sudden demolition and construction, and some brand new apartment.
But when it came to my own body, I always thought I was safe. I mean, I’ve grown quite accustomed to it. I use it to walk, breathe, play intramural softball, and eat. It seemed like my body was here to stay (at least through college).
So imagine my surprise waking up to that familiar old blue and white sign protruding from my own torso: “Planned: 30-Story Apartment Complex.”
At first I was overwhelmed with questions: Were construction workers in my room? How do you even build inside me? And, I wondered, if it’ll be one of the shiny ones, or the blue-square-looking ones.
Don’t get me wrong, I get it. The University District is expanding its offering of residencies as a growing number of school-related and employment opportunities create larger demand for living spaces.
But this is my body.
This isn’t a youth homeless shelter, it isn’t the Safeway I’ve bought my booze at since I was 18, and this sure as fuck isn’t Qdoba. This is the same body I’ve had nearly my entire life.
So maybe I’m a little old-fashioned. Maybe I’m a college senior stuck in the past and afraid of change. But, at the end of the day, I’m someone who thinks $1,800 a month for a two-bedroom, one-bath, in my left-nipple is an absurd asking price for any college student.
