Throughout much of my life, I’ve wanted to change things about myself. My hips. My lips. My eyes. My feet. My hair. Change.
I would look in the mirror and see only the things I thought I hated. I was told there were good parts of me, that I was beautiful, but because I only saw the things I hated, I couldn’t see that. I couldn’t hear that.
“You’re beautiful.” “Yes, but have you seen my feet.”
It wasn’t until I had children that I realized that I am beautiful, my body is beautiful.
I love my body now. I love that it’s carried two children, birthed to children, and lived.
I love my body because it’s imperfectly perfect. It carries my history. The scar on my knee reminds me of that time I fell down on glass in my grandfather’s back yard.
I love my body because it’s mine. It defines me. It stays with me. It’s warm, living, and… all mine.
Fill in the blank. I love my body because ___________.