When I was five, I tore through mud and grass, wearing you down to a satisfying state of exhaustion. Bruises, scrapes, and dirt plastered themselves on you as proof of my adventurous roughhousing that day.
When I was eight, I dressed you up in delicate princess gowns and treated you as if you were absolute royalty. I loved the way you made me feel pretty, confident, sassy and much older than I actually was. I was convinced that you’d always make me feel this way.
When I was 12, I began covering you up with baggier clothes because you did not look quite like the other girls' bodies. I smothered your pores full of makeup to hide your angry, blemished face, trying every idea I could possibly think of to make you look completely different.
When I was 14, I began treating you harshly. I began trying to change you, trying to make you "better." I began obsessing, nitpicking at every little crevice, pimple, imperfection or insecurity I found with you. I began caking your pores full of even more makeup, hiding your figure in every piece of clothing I owned, burning your hair strands with a straightener to try to maintain poof, and even avoiding buying clothes I feared would make you appear even the slightest bit larger. I began singling out things I hated about you and wished I could change instead of fully embracing you for what you are: imperfect.
Now at age 18, I am beginning to finally accept your imperfections. I am beginning to love and appreciate your quirks and unique aspects that make you stand out. I am beginning to treat you better and not be so hard on you, for you do not deserve this. You deserve so much better.
To my short, 4'8" stature: You are unique, and you hold so much strength and power within such a small frame. Thank you for making a statement that beautiful bodies come in all sizes.
To my crazy, kinky, yet beautiful head of hair: You don't cooperate with me most of the time, but for this, I love you. Thank you for letting my personality shine through and for being so versatile with all of the styles I try out on you. Thank you for allowing me to change things up and try new things on you. You're stubborn and stand your ground, which is admirable. I used to dread working with your thick presence each day, but I am learning to keep an open mind and let your natural texture speak for itself.
To my wide-set eyes that squint unevenly each time I laugh: You are a representation of the happiness and carefree moments in life when I am able to let lose and laugh until my side aches and cannot handle much more. Before, I’ve tried to smile not so big in pictures to hide you, but this is no longer. You and the wrinkles that surround you are representations of joy and memories in my life, and you inspire and remind me to smile more.
To my small calves and many surgical scars: You are physical reminders of the pain and struggles I have been through to get to where I am today. I used to be ashamed of you and tried to cover you up with long pants instead of showing off your triumphs. No matter how much I walked, you never seemed to look any more “normal.” Although many look at you as something sad or something that hinders me, I have learned that you actually empower me. You are a unique symbol of my daily life, and you never fail to remind me of my own determination and power.
To my soft stomach, wide thighs and other untoned areas: I’ve spent so long trying to change you, make you smaller and firmer, and perfect your flab. I’ve looked at your stretch marks and have critiqued you for far too long, picking away every part of you that I wished I could just get rid of. I am learning to let you be at peace and speak positively to you instead of tearing you down. Through you, I improve each day, and you allow me to set goals and learn to accept things as how they are.
To my angry, acne-covered skin: I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I have been trying to hide you and shame you for many years. You and I have definitely butted heads, but you are not something to be ashamed of. I have learned not to feel the urge to cover you in inches of foundation and concealer, suffocating you. You are OK, and you have taught me that beauty is on the inside and confidence is the most flawless makeup you can wear.
Through all of your imperfections, I have found beauty. You have carried me through the past 18 years of life, and without you, I would be nothing. You have shown resilience and strength through everything that you do, and I am grateful. Although I am guilty of trying to change you and have found myself comparing you to other bodies around me, I am on the path to fully accept all that you are. You are the only body that I have and will ever have, so I am making it my mission to make the interactions between us positive and healthy. You are what makes me, me. Body, thank you for being exactly as you are.
