I hate my body, it is as simple as that. I hate the dark circles under my eyes, my red blotchy skin, my acne scars, the acne on my chest and back, the curve of my stomach and my thick thighs. The list goes on and on. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all disappear. I find myself picking at those things on my body to make all the things I hate, a separate entity from myself. The more I pick apart my appearance, the more flaws I find. Why do I hate my body so much? My body has always loved me. My body wakes me up every single day, my body takes me where I need to go, my body repairs itself when I cut it open haphazardly. I am ungrateful and take for granted all the things my body does for me.

I think I have an inkling of why I hate my body so much, it is because I look at other people's bodies all free of acne scars, free of dark eye circles and suddenly I am envious of their bodies, I wish my body were free of all of those things. I am envious of girls I see in magazines with slim figures, perfectly curled hair, manicured body, and stunning makeup. I understand that they are photo shopped to look that way, that the models and celebrities also have insecurities and struggle with body acceptance. But that is hard to believe, how could you hate your body when it is plastered all over magazines in shopping isles. My body will never be. It is even harder when I look in the mirror after applying a face full of make up, or taking a straight iron to my hair and still being unhappy with the reflection staring back at me. It's funny how you can hate your biology, the things that physically make you, you, and set you apart from anyone out there.

People tell me I am beautiful but it's hard to accept that as fact when you cannot even tell it to yourself. I have never once had a positive body image. I have never once looked in the mirror and felt satisfied, I have never once told my body that I love it. I should, but I cannot. I lack confidence, I lack courage. I look at my body and I devoid of any emotion. If I got rid of all the things I hate about my body what would be left? My body was a blank canvas when I was born, ready to be painted into a masterpiece. Fate and time were the painters. Fate and time gave me my freckles, the pink in my cheeks, extenuated the brown in my eyes, the redness of my hair. The rest was up to me, I created the image that I wanted. I am bursting with color and life. I look at myself and when I wish that I were someone else, it is a waste of who I truly am, and I am a masterpiece.