Stretch marks and rolls and scars and bruises and all of those awkward little imperfections that stop us from being perfect little cherub creatures. Yeah, I love them too.
Getting out of the shower is always an experience for me. For years, when I was still in my painfully weird adolescent phase, I’d get out of the shower and avert my eyes from the mirror and quickly dress myself and escape the room as soon as possible.
It took me a very long time to actually be able to stop and look at myself. Yeah, at those stretch marks and those rolls. That one scar that I got from cooking, the other that inexplicably appeared one day just above my rib cage.
The past couple of years have been tremendous because I’ve undergone this profound transition. Maybe it’s just because I turned 18 and started college. I don’t know, ether way it’s been amazing.
One thing that I often forget about when I’m celebrating my new-found acceptance of my body and my mind as a whole are all of the little things I had to learn to love in order to get there.
These are my scars, my rolls, unwanted hair, unruly skin, cellulite, and my peculiarly ugly pinky toes. The list goes on and on but if I dissected every insecurity that I have, this post would never ever end.
After I started shaving, I’d cut myself just about everytime. And I have scars all over my legs to be a constant reminder of my errors. I always felt like the scars on my legs made them look ugly and masculine, but I continued shaving them and wearing dresses and skirts anyway. Constantly viewing my legs eventually forced me to start appreciating them.
Another major issue that I’ve written about before is/was my weight. Accepting your weight and accepting the physical ramifications of the number have always been separate things to me. I can look at a scale and see a number and just be okay with it. But when you take your clothes off, look in the mirror and understand what the numbers mean, it’s something completely different to me. Facing the reality of the weight and what the numbers really look like was and will continue to be beautiful for me.
Taking in every part of me, the scars, the fat, the ugly aspects I wish I could ignore and accepting them was pretty revolutionary for me. It’s not something that happened once and left me completely confident and in love with the mirror image I see everyday. I still have those moments. The stupid moments of insecurity that make me feel less than what I am. And in those moments, I have to tell myself that I’m being an idiot and to just get over it. Otherwise, I’ll be consumed by the negative thoughts. And I don’t want to consume anything but bagels and cream cheese.