🌟YOU ARE NOT A MANTLE PIECE ORNAMENT🌟When I had my daughter 8 years ago I promised myself that I would get rid of my body hatred. I started therapy (for other reasons as well but this was definitely one of main things I wanted help with) but I had no idea how hard it would be to shift, how bone deep it goes, how it’s been there since I was tiny, how every time I make any progress I re-emerge into the world and hear the message that a woman is primarily how she looks. Her kindness and her brain are just a bonus, at best. I am so sick of the constant negative narrative that’s on repeat as I try to get on with my badassness. The time spent hating my thighs and stomach, the scorn I pour onto myself for not looking better and thinner is something that I can never get back. Doing therapy weekly has shown me why it’s such a complicated issue - I’m learning so much about it. But it makes me weep how many women live, everyday, with their very own private torment- maybe never telling anyone what goes on in their heads and hearts. It can affect every part of their lives. Women’s value isn’t in how attractive we are to others - I am not a fucking mantle piece ornament - but holy cow that’s not the message I breath in every day. Thank god for the weekly enlightenment through therapy. It’s slow but how can I expect my beautiful precious daughter to live free from silent self hate if I don’t live it myself. I’m not giving up until this shit is gone. How can we really have equality until we use our brain time equally and until we don’t have to feel apologetic for not looking like computer generated women. It’s a bugger to unpick but it’s political, emotional and essential.