You are the temple of my existence.
Oh how so many times I haven’t loved you, haven’t seen your magnificence, haven’t loved you for exactly what you provide. All those silly thoughts about bigger boobs, a smaller nose, less cellulite, smoother skin.
GAH- how my ego thought that you were imperfect when in fact, you are more than perfect, you are perfection multiplied.
I can’t begin to digest the amount of wisdom that you hold. The love that you produce for me, taking in toxins, and doing your best to release them from my system.
You are magnificent, complex, the Universe inside one being who is so undeserving – ME.
Legs, you are so beautiful, and I am sorry I didn’t love you for your long length that left me feeling awkward around all the boys at school, or called “chicken legs” as I ran home from the bus stop. I wasn’t thankful for you until I was able to help a tiny old lady reach a box of cereal at Target that was sitting on the top shelf. Only then, did I love you, long legs.
Skin, your color is perfect. Yes, it may not be as tan or dark as the beautiful color of those you grew up around, but the brightness of you doesn’t deny the complexity and richness of how you protect my inner world.
You are divine, a shield of glorious silk, keeping out harm, absorbing nutrients. Thank you skin.
Tummy, I’m trying to love you, with the love that I know you deserve. You and I have had such a love/hate relationship, haven’t we, my sweet?
The center of my emotions, bottled up for so many years, simmering in sour, twisting pain – all you wanted was to be heard. I’m listening now.
Sending you luscious, organic, fresh juices and greens, and life-force-lifting foods. And, most importantly, breathing out those toxic emotions that I used to store safely inside your womb. You shall not bear the burden of those; they don’t belong to either of us.
I hope you know, when I lay my hand on you, it is all love.
And yes, I’ve never understood why you pooch out after I eat (no matter what I eat), or why no matter how clean I eat, or how much I exercise, you continue to pooch, I’m learning to love your full-forward stretch as prideful existence.
Pooch out with pride, my beautiful belly.
Breasts, thank you for reminding me that I am woman. No matter how small you might seem in this American, “bigger is better” world, you and I fit perfectly. I’m grateful for your healthy, beautiful existence.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
For as many times as I’ve criticized, bastardized, compared, cringed, cowered at you as I’ve compared you to other bodies, YOU, are pure perfection. Nothing to do, nothing to be, but the representation of the physical me.
I love you, body of mine.
In Legit Body Love,
What is one thing you’d like to love more about your body?
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