I Love My Body

February 11, 2017

I love my body. I haven't always been able to say that and I can't always say it now with confidence, but I do love it.

I love my hair even though it gets tangled just sitting there — it's my favorite of my physical traits.

I love my muffin top, even though it forces me to dress accordingly — it gives me more room to eat French fries.

I love the stretch marks on my thighs that I must've gotten when I was like 12 — they're my tiger stripes and make me feel strong and powerful.

I love my eyes, even if one is squintier than the other — they help me spot puppers across the street that I can run to and pet.

I have a horrible singing voice — but because I know I'm no good, I have a lot of fun doing karaoke.

I like my legs — even though they're disproportionately long to the rest of my body, they make me look like I'm in shape (which I'm not).

I like my acne — it keeps me humble. My skin's not perfect and I'm not perfect. But I'm still pretty darn great.

I don't feel grateful every day, but my body has gotten me through it all. It helps me cry when I need to feel better, it helps me carry cat litter up three flights of stairs more often than I'd like, and it helps me hug the people (and cats) that I love. I'm not ashamed of this picture and I wasn't ashamed to go to the beach today, even though I wasn't ready for swimsuit season when I booked a flight to Florida a week ago (but let's be real, I'm never ready for swimsuit season). I'm not saying I can't improve — because I stopped running after a third of a mile at the gym with the excuse of typing this AKA I was too tired and out of shape — but I love where I'm at and am excited to grow.

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