Yeah. That’s right. I have the body of a freaking GODDESS.

Let me explain.

I made this discovery quite recently… at the Getty Museum actually. Let me set the stage for you: There I was perusing many a painting- which admittedly all started to look somewhat the same after a while- and I was -also admittedly- trying way too hard to seem a whole lot more sophisticated and poised and “museum-ey” than I actually am. But nevertheless there I was wandering among one too many dramatic depictions of the crucifixion alongside portraits of rich, old, white men with weird noses when all of a sudden…

WHAM: a hunk of pale fleshy ass stole my attention.

I think I may have made a face, may have thought “that’s unfortunate.” But I then stared at that sumptuous ass and felt almost blinded. That ass belonged to none other than Venus- the goddess of love, fertility, beauty, and yes…. SEX. And then it hit me: that thick milky behind of hers was supposed to be sexy.

At first, I was like “Wait what? Aren’t goddesses supposed to be thin and slender but somehow simultaneously curvy? I don’t ever recall chunkiness being akin to sexiness…” And then I kind of hated myself for thinking that. It’s horrifying just how much the modern day beauty standard has warped our expectation for what the body is supposed to look like.

Venus in all her glorious thickness is sexy and sensual simply because she is a woman with a real body.

I kept staring at her. I think the people around me thought I was a little strange for doing so. But I just kept thinking “WOW.” No joke some sort of supernova went off in my mind. Confidence and self-love spiked through me like adrenaline. I felt like dancing. (Funny what art can do to you heh.) But seriously, I felt pure joy.

Because I have a real body too.

I’m no Victoria’s Secret model. Most of us girls aren’t. (But hey if you are, go you!!) I hate to go down that whole cliche “you’re beautiful just the way you are” road, but you know what- it’s actually true.

It is so fucking sad that we are taught to be ashamed of ourselves if we don’t look like what we see on TV screens or in advertisements. And the irony of it all is that most of what we see isn’t even real! We need to realize that. STAT.

So listen up modern beauty standard, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.

We girls- flesh and blood standing in front of you- we are real.

Some of us are thin.

Some of us are thick.

Some of us are a little bit of both.

A lot of us are plagued by this thing called cellulite (which men don’t even have to worry about.) But that is natural!! COMPLETELY NATURAL. It does not mean we are fat. It means we have fat because we are human beings. So let our thighs quake with thunder, and don’t you dare point at my flesh and mutter “cottage cheese.” And you know what?? That cellulite ought to sit proud upon its throne- for it sits upon thick bands of lean and powerful muscle. Below that is sturdy, beautiful bone. That is one hell of a throne if you ask me.

Some of us have wide hips.

Some of us have square chins, broad shoulders, short legs, back dimples, stretch marks.

But all of us have the bodies of goddesses.

We are real.

Fat clings to the curves of our hips and to the tenderness of our inner thighs.

Our hair grows everywhere it is supposed to grow-

some of us let it.

That should not be a sin.

We should not be ashamed.

You hear me, Ms. Beauty Standard?

You are not real.

You are no goddess.