I have a reminder on my phone that goes off with a little ding every single night at 6:00 pm. It says, you are good enough. Even though, that I believe in the moment that I am not.

I wake up every morning and look at myself in the mirror just like every other human being does. It’s not like we can help it. Our bathroom has a mirror; plain and simple. What else are we supposed to do while brushing our teeth besides stare at ourselves. I see my blue eyes that look like my grandfathers and I feel his kindness, love and pride in them when I see them, but I also see my fathers chin and parts of his nose. I see part of a man in me that lies, degrades and abandons.

A man who does not fight for his daughter. A man who seems to keep lying no matter the many chances his daughter gives for him to redeem himself. I see the wrinkles on my forehead that society says are disgusting in young woman since we are so young. I see my arms and the skin that hangs when I raise them. The part that everyone hates, but mine so long and fat that I can’t help but grab it in the mirror and see if I can permanently take it off somehow.

I see my collarbone, something I’ve learned to love since years ago, when I was obese I could never see it. I see the curve in my hips that I’ve learned to love and appreciate about myself. Then I see my thighs; so big and filled with cellulite that it feels as if boats could run over them thinking they blended with waters waves.

I’m not finished yet. I could go on. I’m not trying to degrade the things I love about myself, because they do exist; like my lips that are full and my fair skin that can also be tan. The freckles on my face that remind me of moments in the sun.

Of course, I will say out loud to myself that I’m pretty. I know I’m not ugly. I know that. I have great qualities about myself and my body that are amazing. What I’m saying is that the ones that relate to my emotions and my weight just really top everything else.

How is someone supposed to love me if my own father can’t? That’s a question I ask myself every day and I know the answer. I know that anyone that heard that come out of my mouth would yell at me and say that not loving me is impossible.

But then why do I feel so alone in a group of people who do? Why in a room full of 250 sisters do I feel like no one can see me, or hear me, or know I’m there besides my best friends? Why in certain classrooms do I feel degraded?

Why at a gas station does a group of colored men have to whistle at me when I am trying to put gas in my car? Why do I feel as if boys ALWAYS like my friends first? Why do I believe that boys don’t like me because I’m bigger? Why then aren’t I not motivated to change the way I exercise then, or eat?

It’s when these questions spill in my mind like a bucket of water that I realize that I’m starting to become sad. On top of that, that there’s still things I need to work through mentally, physically and emotionally.

Why do I tell myself, “No, I’m not” every single damn time that reminder pops up on my phone. Is it because of current situations? Is it because of my body? I truly don’t know, but I’m trying to figure it out, as much as I don’t want to.

The thing is, I feel there’s a part of us that always tells us we aren’t good enough. Every single one of us has this. It’s our sub conscious always saying the opposite of what is good. I know I’m not alone. Trust me, I do.

I just think there's always a part of me that wants to succumb to these thoughts because it’s easy. It’s the easier option, and I hate that. Because I can sit and be soothed in my hollowness and pity while crying over these things, and somehow my mind has pride in saying I love that.

But…I hate it. I hate it because I don’t want to be like that, and I know deep down I am not.

I’m a daughter of a mother who is strong. I’m a daughter who still finds things she loves about herself despite the ones she hates. I’m a girl who thinks she’s fat, yes, but also knows I am not obese in any way shape or form. I’m a girl who knows her father will always lie, as sad as that may seem. I’m a girl who has a hard time believing if God is real or a figment of imagination.

I’m a girl who feels alone sometimes in a room of people who strive on loving each other. I’m a girl who gets jealous of my friends when there are five boys in a room with us and all they want is her, because I wish I had that affect on men too.

I’m a girl who believes that most of the time the reason boys don’t like me, is because of the size of my thighs. I’m a woman who currently doesn’t have the motivation she used to have, but it will come back; emotionally and physically.

I’m not good enough, but that doesn’t mean that one day I won’t think that I am.