Posted this on Tumblr just now, and thought the blog could use it too.
See, the thing is ladies (and those gents that need to hear this too, naturally), no one ever said you had to only love things that were perfect. Pretty sure all of us could pick flaws in EVERYTHING we love, if pressed. I love my son, but sometimes he annoys the snot out of me. Ditto my husband. Ditto my job, my friends, the people I spend my work day with, my house, heck, even my favourite foods. I love them, but I wouldn’t want to eat only them, right? And my dog. Don’t get me started on my dog.
Point is, no one ever said love was only for the perfect things. So when I tell you that I love my body, I’m not claiming that it’s perfect. I’m pretty unfit right now, and my skin is not so great because I’ve been neglecting it, and I have stomach flabs, not abs, and there are a list of other flaws I’m cognisant of. But that’s exactly the thing: acknowledging these things does not equal automatic hatred, any more than noting that the two-year-old can be obnoxious means I hate him. None of these things change the fact that I can still choose to love my body, exactly how it is, for what it is.
And you know what? It’s pretty damn awesome. I’ve typed this entire post right now without once thinking about where my fingers are going on the keys. You want telekinesis? Your fingers move just by thinking about it.
My body walks, my body runs, my body hugs and laughs and breathes and eats tasty food and feels the fresh air on my cheeks and the rain on my hair and the sun on my skin and the soft damp kisses of my son and the warm, strong embrace of my husband and the careful shoulder knocks or fist bumps or high fives from students who want to connect. It made a baby, for crying out loud, all by itself, with exactly ZERO input from me. That’s like, magic. MAGIC, YOU GUYS. YOUR BODY IS MAGIC.
It doesn’t matter if your body isn’t perfect. It’s magic. And you can love it anyway.