For the past 23 years you have woken up every morning, healthy and ready for the day before us. You made it possible for me to move from one destination to another, taste the sweet taste of coffee and biscuits. You have made it possible for me to hear the beauty of a piano, and a voice to sing along to songs on the radio. You made it possible to smell roses and that sweet scent of a man.
My lovely body, you allow me to move, to write, to laugh and to cry. Yet I have scolded and hated you for as long as I can remember.
I am sorry for tugging at my tummy in the mirror, and instead of thanking you for my belly button and reminding me when I’m hungry. I snort and slap it, and tug and pull at it, looking at it with loathing self-awareness.
I am sorry for looking at my nose from every angle possible, wishing that bump could disappear, forgetting that it’s that same nose that made me smell, and enhances my taste. The nose that forms my face ad sets me apart from the rest.
Dear body, thank you for allowing me to colour you with ink on the side of you, you didn’t make it painful, you didn’t make it fade, you accepted it. As if you loved it too. You accepted that it would be there forever.
Sorry for squeezing my thighs and instead of thanking you for my legs, I would complain about bumps and dents. Which you only make visible when I squeeze and tug. So thank you, for allowing me to walk around anyway, despite my hateful actions.
A few months ago, and I’m still struggling with this, I discovered my first stretch marks, on my hips, I hated you for it, because I have never done anything to cause it, but it’s there. But I accept them now, with a heavy heart, but I accept them, they form part of our identity. Of who I am and what you are. I will wear them with pride, because I too, am a woman; with stretch marks and bumps, and scratches. I too, have lived, and I have all these prints on my bodies to help tell my story, so thank you for telling my story.
My lovely body, you have changed as I have grown. I changed and I should allow you to change too. One day, I will leave you behind on this Earth, and as I leave you, I wish to look back with pride, pride for every wrinkle caused by laughter and turmoil. Every scar and scratch, telling a unique story that we shared together.
I accept you now, I should’ve accepted you always, and I’m sorry it took me so long. But I am a proud woman, and it took me until now to understand how amazing you are, all your functions and abilities, and how much you contribute to my life. Because of you I have arms to wrap around my loved ones, lips to kiss my lover, feet to walk on beaches, ears to listen to friends and a nose, my lumpy nose, to smell the world, the new blossoms, the perfume, my husband.
Thank you for loving me when I didn’t love you. I will take care of you. I will eat well, I will be healthy, I will love and I will live. And when we get a new scar, I will embrace it, and when I get older and you change once again, I will accept it. For we should grow, and you should change.
You are perfect, and I wouldn’t want you any other way.
Society has made us used to the idea that none of us perfect, and that we have flaws. But we should rebel against the perceptions of media and industry standards. We were never created to be the same. We were created to be perfect. And we are, each of us.