Maybe it’s the season, but the importance of body love has been on my mind more than almost anything else lately. While I can’t tell anyone else how they should love their body, I can certainly decide for myself.
I love my body.
I love my figure that is so much like my mother’s, curvy in places and flat in others.
I love the firmness of my body and also the softness.
I love my legs, sometimes hairy and sometimes smooth. I love my strong calves and my squishy thighs, and my large feet that ground me.
I love my barely there behind, the “gluteus minimus” that is characteristic of the Baylor family.
I love my belly, fleshy and soft. I love my fat.
I love my breasts, large and saggy. They are mine and they are beautiful.
I love my strong, tanned shoulders and I love my hairy arms. I love my mother’s signature, tattooed on the soft skin of my forearm.
I love my hands, small but strong, that allow me to touch and feel.
I love my green eyes, my crooked nose, and my ears that stick out slightly more than normal.
I love the way my face lights up when I smile.
I’m in awe of this body. This body that lives and breathes and heals and sustains itself day after day. This body that menstruates and possesses the ability to bring new life into the world. This body that, despite the pain and sadness and anxiety, keeps going every day. My body is strong. I am strong.
I love my amazing, beautiful, resilient, miraculous body.