Body Love

I have a love/hate relationship with my body. Don't we all?

I read this article yesterday and it resonated with me. For so long, I avoided swimsuits. I just didn't go where they were needed. Then, came the t-shirt years, when I somehow figured wearing a baggy-knit-thing would hide who I was.
And, pictures? They have been erased and edited and cropped, carefully only showing my face, and, maybe shoulders.

I guess it's our human nature. To look in the mirror, and instead of seeing beautiful, glorious beings, we pick ourselves apart, honing in on each and every teeny-tiny flaw. We squint and frown, and often, just avoid the reflection altogether. It doesn't help that 'the world' is telling us what we need to look like and all the many things that are wrong with who we are.

There are things I hate don't like about my body. I would list them, but, well, that would be like saying 'Voldemort'-- giving power and substance to the thing I wish to avoid. Instead, I will tell 'the world' to shut up, and tell you what I love.

I love my hands. I love being able to use them to comfort my children, stroke their soft hair and tickle their feet. I love how they look when they're wrapped up with the hands of my husband, all petite and feminine. I love the way they move across the keyboard, tap-tap-tapping out my thoughts, an extension of my brain.

I love my feet. I love that they can carry me up and down stairs, across the lawn and into the water. I love that my second toe is so much longer than my first--a trait inherited from my father. I love the birthmark, pink and splotchy, that begins on my right ankle and travels up my calf.

I love my stomach. I love that it carried seven babies, seemingly stretched to the very limit. I love that my children wrap their arms around it without care, or even notice, of the size or softness of it.

I love my face. I love my eyes, once brown, now hazel, as if they matured as I did. I love that others see my face and see my mother. I love my upturned nose. I love my mouth, I love speaking and singing and eating (of course) and kissing. Yeah, I really love kissing.

I love what my body can do. It can walk and dance, clean house, create art and food and children. It loves my husband and brings me pleasure and joy. My body is not who I am, but it houses my spirit, and while it is far from perfect, it is enough.

We need to stop nit-picking at ourselves and embrace the magnificent beings we are. Let's look past the things the world says are wrong and unabashedly showcase the glory of a woman.

Today, I will don my swimsuit and take my boys to the water park. I will walk with head held high. Because I am beautiful. I am strong. And, I love my body.

My friend, June, and me--no cropping. 

**What do you love?