It’s crazy how bipolar women are when it comes to the curves of our hips, the extra meat on our thighs or the fact that our bodies never shape up to match those Victoria Secret models.
I would be lying if I said I never looked in the mirror and wished that my butt was bigger or that my stomach was flatter or that my hair was straighter, or that I was a bit taller.
But as I look back at that young sixteen year old version of me. The girl who never knew what to wear in the mornings, who would look at other girls and wondered why they got all the guys, the lost girl who hated everything about herself.
I laugh mostly because if I could have told that young version of me of what she would become, she probably would have laughed herself.
I’m in love with everything about myself. And I’m not cocky, trust me. I’ve just come in to terms with the beauty that I hold within the palms of my hands and the curves of my hips.
I love my skin color, it’s like coffee cream or olive toned, whatever it is, it glows when the sun hits it. I love my almond shaped eyes and how they are big and small at the same time. I love my legs, my calves are curved and thick just like my mothers. I love my toes and how cute they look in summer sandals. I love my smile and how natural it comes to smiling. I love my cheekbones and how they resemble the native american side of my family. I love my crazy curly afro-boricua hair, that reminds me of my ancestors in Puerto Rico. I love how each curl reminds me of the curve of my hips. I love my hips and how they move when I dance to reggae music. I love my hands and how small they look enclosed in the palms of my lover.
I love everything about myself, but most of all, I love the woman I’ve become. You don’t need a man or society to make you beautiful.
You make yourself beautiful. From waking up in the morning and falling in love with yourself over and over again.
Love yourself for all the flaws you have. Because there’s no one out there who can match you.