The war against my body ended when I stopped prioritizing the observer.
I wore a bikini to the pool with my kids yesterday, as I always do. And of course, as per usual, the comments starting rolling in.
No, not about how gross my saggy belly and stretch marks look. Not about how I probably should be wearing something else. But about how cute my top was and how strong and brave I am for wearing it.
Y’all. I love you, I really do. I appreciate all the kind words and comments. But I am sick to fucking death of spewing that we need to embrace our imperfections. The false fucking narrative that society has gotten in their heads that stretch marks, saggy skin, dimples, scars, bruises, fluff, cellulite, and wrinkles somehow means “less than”. Embracing that you are imperfect means you have accepted somebody else’s standard of what YOUR BODY should be. And I am here to tell you that nobody’s goddamn standard matters but your own.
Wear the bikini, stop obsessing about your stretch marks, I promise you nobody else notices you have a muffin top or that this year’s jeans are two sizes bigger than last year’s, and quit allowing your self worth to rest in the hands of what you ASSUME all the outside observations to be.
Happy FRIDAY, lovaaaa faces!! 💜✊🏽