An open letter to my body.
I’ve never been a big fan of you. Ever since I was little, I didn’t like you very much. It was always something. I always felt like I didn’t belong, in the body I have (–in you). I didn’t care for you nor did I care about you. I hated the way you looked. I hated, even more, the way people looked at me because of you. Growing up, I was always compared to those around me. I never had the body I was supposed to have, nor look the way I should’ve (according to those who compared). The others are those who “are doing it right” *like we’re supposed to know what is acceptable in others’ eyes, as opposed to the authenticity of ourselves. * (but like, how are you supposed to know what you are supposed to look like if all you can really look like is the way you have always looked like.) Not that I cannot help the way I look, but this is the way I was made to look.
I forgot that YOU are the design.
You were always curvier than most girls at my school. Because of this, we were not allowed to wear yoga pants, shorts, skirts, or dresses to school – if so, we were breaking the dress-code for showing “too much”. Meanwhile, other girls were allowed to wear shorts – even go so far as to wearing oversized t-shirts that surpassed their shorts. Which made the illusion of not wearing anything underneath. *no disrespect to them, but I feel as if that’s a better example of “showing too much” * Besides school, church, was another place where judgment would be at an all-time high. We couldn’t wear certain dresses, because they accentuated our curves. If we wore them, then I would be labeled as “bad” “slut” “hoe” “disrespectful” “sexual”. It was and still is, hard finding dresses where they fit us properly. You’re small on the top half, and bigger for the bottom half. Do you know how hard it is to find something that isn’t too small for the bottom or too big for the top? I can never win, with you. I still struggle with you.
Remember when boobs were what all the boys crazed over? How, No boobs = No boys. You didn’t have any, which lead to no boys being interested in you and me. Then it shifted to the craze of ass. You didn’t have a butt either. However, you did – and do, have hips. I recall 10th grade English class where a boy classmate said to me, “Oh wow, you have them birthing hips” while laughing. I was mortified –embarrassed even. This statement has forever haunted me, through all these years.
We have yet given birth with these hips. I hate them if I’m being completely honest. My biggest insecurity is your hips.
I can’t fit into anything without shit riding up every two steps I take. I get a lot of attention thanks to you. I hate being stared at and I hate when strangers feel the need to compliment me by touching.
I don’t like your curves. Most days.
Some days I love them. However, those days are pretty rare.
I feel uncomfortable – I wish I didn’t. I am someone that preaches about self-love, as I’m continuing to learn and grow. Going down the path of recognizing [my body] you. I’m not perfect – trust me, no one is. I’m practicing by listening, loving, and accepting you.
Sometimes I feel as if I don’t belong in the body that I have. And that’s okay to feel some type of way, as long as we recognize and validate our emotions. It’s hard sometimes not to lose yourself in your seas of insecurities. Diving in too deep, that you’re drowning and you don’t even know it. Until you’ve reached the bottom and there’s nowhere else to swim. Forcing you to kick and pull yourself up to the shore – to take a breather. Letting out the first exhale as a cry out for help.
Honestly, it’s a love-hate relationship.
Dear Body,
Thank you for everything that you do and everything that you are.
I’m beyond sorry for the things that I have put you through, you didn’t deserve that. You deserve the best. I’m sincerely fucking sorry. I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m acknowledging. And best of all, I’m taking the disparity and turning that shit into power. You deserve better and I’m going to try to give you better… no, I will give you the best.
I’m sorry for hating you.
I’m sorry for the mean comments.
I’m sorry for not listening to you.
I’m sorry for the restless nights.
I’m sorry for not believing in you.
I’m sorry for underestimating you.
I’m sorry for the scars.
I’m sorry for not drinking enough water.
I’m sorry for over-working you.
I’m sorry for the nameless faces that entered you.
I’m sorry for the endless disrespect.
I’m sorry for the many hands that touched you.
I’m sorry for not sitting straight.
I’m sorry for being embarrassed by you.
I’m sorry for comparing you to others.
I’m sorry for not getting out of bed when I’m sad.
I’m sorry for not eating.
I’m sorry for binge drinking.
I’m sorry for binge eating.
I’m sorry for smoking.
I’m sorry for not loving you, just as you are.
I’m sorry for hiding you.
I’m sorry for not embracing you.
I’m so so sooooo sorry.
You have done so much for me. You support me in ways I couldn’t. I cannot be anything, but beyond grateful for you. With me, you have seen it, been through it, and felt through it all. You never give up on me. It was always you and I, together. Thank you, I can never thank you enough.
Thank you for always being the one I can count on.
Thank you for loving me when I didn’t know how to love you.
Thank you for carrying me.
Thank you for growing with me.
Thank you for gifting me with abilities.
Thank you for allowing me full use of my hands.
Thank you for all the small details in you.
Thank you for taking me on adventures.
Thank you for the dances.
Thank you for surviving concerts and music festivals.
Thank you for protecting me from strangers.
Thank you for giving me choices.
Thank you for not failing me during all of my bad ideas.
Thank you for housing my soul.
Thank you for the heart you kept beating even when I felt broken.
Thank you for all the above and SO much more.
Thank you for the endless, unconditional, and outpouring of love, I undeservingly receive from you. I want you to know that you don’t have to worry, I promise that I will continue to do the best and take care of you, the way you deserve and rightfully need. I hope you forgive me as I embrace the scars I left on you. Self-love and self-care are deeper than a skincare routine, bigger than the amount of time spent on the gym… it starts by looking within, and showing grace for what I was gifted. I promise to show you affection as you need it.
Let me prove that my love for you is genuine.
Let me show you how proud I am of every curve and inch you adorn me in.
I promise to not let you down.
I love you. Always.
– ebarona
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