My body and I have a weird relationship. I tried to love it, but it did not love me back. In my tender age, it had the appearance and size of that of a grown woman. And I loathed it.
Just recently, as I was complaining about body shaming, a friend of mine hinted that I might have self hate. He was not completely wrong.
In high school, we used to play a game, one would name 3 body parts they loved the most. I could only name one- my nails.
It is very easy to hate the voluptuousness of my figure. To look in the mirror and see the 36 inch waist, the 52 inch hips, the 5ft2 height that coupled with weight makes my BMI way off.
However, I would be ignoring the joy I find in watching my shadow. The beauty of my lips layered with black lipstick. The sexiness of my bosom. The dark and uniqueness of my nails.
If I focus on what's wrong with me, I will be driven to loathe the one thing I am stuck with, the one thing layered with so many beautiful things
It would be so easy to look in the mirror, see all the imperfections and hate my body. However I choose love. I choose to find love in the arc of my body, the shape of my silhouette and all the little things that make me me.
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