Stretch-Marks and Sundresses

Today as I sat in the dentist office I couldn't help but hear a woman talking on her phone to whom I would presume was a girl friend.

The conversation made my stomach turn and not because she was discussing her child's recent stomach flu.

I became disgusted at how this beautiful 20 something young lady was skinning herself alive with such a negative perspective of herself.

"Ugh I know. I tried it on and was like, ' why are my hips so huge?! It just made me look like a whale, well I am one but...'"

"Well if I had a tan maybe I could pull it off."

I wasn't only sickened at how such a pretty girl could see herself this way, but that I do the exact thing to myself.

I tell my husband I hate my pale skin, my hips, my hair, the way my arms look in tanks & why it's so unfair I have hideous stretch marks yet have no children.

I am sick and tired of women killing themselves day after day by their bathroom mirror, including myself.

Who taught us to take our characteristics and label them as flaws?

Since when did having a patch of cellulite distract us from how beautiful we are?

I shy from shorts in the summer to hide my porcelain, freckled skin.
But, why?

That fair skin is what makes Britney unique.
That nose that you wish you could trade for a button one?
That makes you unique.

The way we measure ourselves as women is sickening.

We are more than our curly hair, our stretch marks, our freckles or moles.

I quit wearing foundation to cover up those freckles I used to detest.
I will wear sundresses and shorts with pride.
I will not ruin my skin with tanning or chemicals.
I will not cut or reshape the design the Artist intended for me to keep.

I am more than my skin.
I am more than my hair.
I am more than my weight.
I am more than my bra size.
I am more than my height.

I am more than comparing myself to an airbrushed photograph.

I am smart.
I am sarcastic and witty.
I am a book worm.
I am poetic.
I am kind.
I am compassionate.

I am a friend, a sister, a wife, a mother, a daughter.

I am done speaking of myself negatively, even when I am alone changing clothes and my husband isn't around to rebuttal.

You are more than looking good in a dress or the size of your jeans.

You are more than your hips or those stretch marks on your thighs.

There is nothing more rare or beautiful than a woman who is unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection.