To The Woman At War With Her Body
To the girl fighting a hard battle:
Your body is not bad. I hope you know that. She is whole and full of strength.
Do you feel it?
I am so sorry the world has made you think that you aren’t worthy; not worth love because you take up space. Your molecules fill the room and yet you wish there was less of you to see. Those molecules are magic. I wish you knew that.
I wish you could see past the mirror. Past the reflection of comparison smirking back at you.
Damn the society that told you it mattered. That numbers and sizes and lipstick shades demand more attention than the things that make you brave. The things that make your heart beat faster and your head spin.
It must be so hard, isn’t it?
To fight with yourself each time the sun rises. To spit words like venom, only because you don’t know how to speak kindly to a body that you’ve been told doesn’t look like a proper home. A body that doesn’t deserve to be seen or loved.
What would it be like to tell your home that she is just right? To say thank you for strong legs that carry you on adventures? To love the arms that carry your favorite books? To say, “you are okay just the way you are,” to the cheeks that fill up your face when you smile?
I hope one day you’ll see photos as memories, not as some twisted proof that your body isn’t worth remembering. How would it feel to not pick apart every inch? To be okay with the curve of your body? To see it as something worth celebrating? Something worth loving even?
It’s hard to exist, I know. It’s difficult to wade through the lies and the harsh words every single day. The things you’ve been told, and the things you’ve told yourself. But keep walking. Keep moving forward. Because you are worth every step.
Stop fighting the battle, even just for a second. Your body is filled with life and every good thing that exists. She’s not your enemy; she is you and you deserve some peace.
Can you try to believe that?