Dear Body,

I love you. I know, it's taken me far too long to be able to say that and mean it, but better late than never.

You're not perfect. I'm finally accepting your imperfections, though. Your imperfections, your so called flaws, they're beautiful. Every single one of them.

People may see a little extra weight on your stomach or your butt. They may see you "jiggle" when you're running the stairs at work or racing from one end of the grounds to other. But what they don't see how just a couple years ago instead of a "little extra" you had nearly 30 pounds extra. Or how hard you've worked to turn most of that into muscle in the last two years. They don't know that the "jiggle" is the result of many, many miles and many, many stairs. So I'm proud of you. You can do those stairs all night now. You can walk 15+ miles in a single shift.

And those scars I was once ashamed of? I'm finally seeing them as battles survived. That's what they are. Things you've fought and overcome. The ankle surgery. The gall bladder surgery. The biopsies to check for skin cancer. Shoulder surgery. Self-injury. All things you've fought through. They've left their marks, but you've come out victorious. Another reason to be proud.

I know we have many more battles left to fight. I know the road in front of us is still so long. I also know you are so capable. And beautiful. It's time to really believe that. You're beautiful.

You are stronger than I give you credit for. So much stronger. You're not perfect and we still don't always get along, but I do love you. Truly.

Always,

The girl who finally learned to love her body