Buddy,
I’m sorry…
I have not been nice to you in the past. I’m not exactly sure why, as I always claim confusion and disbelief for people’s scornful attitudes towards their own bodies.
I am sorry because I have looked at you in the mirror and have wanted to go back to bed because of the immediate shame I’ve felt in the world seeing you. Scared of boys not wanting you. As if their desire for you, for me, even mattered.
I constantly modify you, correct you, and think about how much better you could be.. As if you weren’t beautiful already. I always think about how much more work out you need to do and how less food you should eat.
You have become a temple and I barely touch you lately. Not because of respect, but rather because of the anxiety I feel in “dealing” with you. I cover you up as much as I can and when I show too much skin or wear clothes that are too tight, I don’t want to appear in pictures. I hate your flabbiness, that is nonexistent, and the way your belly bloats immediately following a delicious plate of pasta.
So for this, and for all the moments where I have forgotten to love you, I want to apologize. I want to say sorry f or looking at you and comparing you to all the bodies that maybe don’t love themselves either. Thinking how things would be better “if only…”, “after I workout..”, and “when I eat better.”
I am sorry because you are already your best. You will always be your best. You already shine and I don’t need to cover you or turn you into a shade darker or hide you from the world. Because whoever was to say you’re missing something or there is too much of one thing and it could be removed or simply hint at your lack of imperfection has not understood how to love their body either. And if they love it because their abs are visible or because their legs are strangers to cellulite then they have fallen in love with a temporary image that is far from the body they will live with forever.
And so all I can teach you is to love your body for reasons that don’t need measurements or weights or approval. None other than your own, of course.
To love it not because the skin is smooth, tanned, rough or wrinkled, but because it is yours. Because it will be with you forever. It is not a representation of who you are, but rather it is company to your soul and your beauty that cannot be seen, but can be delightfully experienced.