Self Love

A piece about just fucking loving yourself.

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I love my muffin top.

I love my thighs. I love my curvy thighs that wont fit into any other kind of jeans but the ones that are high waisted and curvy, and you know what? I love that. I love my feet, beaten from my previous years in dance – a bunion throbbing daily reminding me of my adventures en pointe, an ankle aching dully because of constantly skipping in bare feet. I never have a desire to wear shoes. The calluses that plague my toes and no matter how many times I go to get a pedicure they shine bright and red within my newly bought sandals.

I love the extra bone I have at the bottom of my foot and that when swollen makes me feel like I’m standing on a marble.

I love my hands, small and boney and weak yet hiding killer strength and power.

I love the second degree burns and the dryness that surrounds all my fingers and finger nails from my work in the food and beverage industry for OVER 15 YEARS. I love how my skin gets dry and chapped when I grip too hardly on anything. I love that the tips of my nails are a perfect shade of white because I never smoked. I love how strong my nails are.

I love my freckles that in summer make me look like a hot mess. I love how it reminds me constantly of my grandparents when I gaze down and see them sneaking up my arms and pummel my shoulder’s as if someone dropped a freckle paint bomb on me.

My grandfather sat me in the car once, before I was 15, and he said ‘your grandmother thinks everything of you and knows you will make things happen, make things big, she sees you going far and working hard’. I’ve never forgotten that, and everyday I think of them hoping I can make them proud of what I’ve done.

I love my freckles.

I love my butt, I love the little dimples and how it’s super perky and at the same time makes buying jeans super hard. I love my acne. I love that every morning and every night I get to wash my face with OILS and I feel like a total slim ball for a hot second. I love my elbows and the mushy skin that makes me feel lived in. I love my knees and how they seem to always look like they’re slightly chubby, I love my stomach, my back, my shoulders, my chin, my boobs, my collarbone, my neck, I love the indent from my muffin top to the top of my thighs that will never go away no matter how much I work. AND I LOVE THAT IT DOESN’T.

I smile at in the mirror fondly now because it’s my friend and has been greeting me for the past 29 years with NOTHING but love.

I love my smile, my big front teeth and my fist sized overbite that for years I would cry over and try to hold my jaw shut so no one would know. I love my smile and how it’s crooked, I love how my lips are the perfect British small, just like my mums and I love that. I love my piggy nose and always have. I love my eyes, how they change color from blue to hazel to grey and I’m most proud of them when they mimic my grandads.

I love my pale ASS eyebrows that I have to pencil in every day so I don’t look like a mother fucking ghost. I love my laugh lines, I love the dark circles under my eyes, I love the not quiet whiteness of my teeth because I DIDN’T CARE UNTIL YOU TOLD ME and now I just leave them that way because fuck if I care now. 

I love …

What do you love?

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One thought on “A piece about just fucking loving yourself.

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