My tummy doesn’t have to be cute. It holds my internal organs. My thighs don’t have to “crush men’s skulls”. I use them to carry myself. My stretch marks don’t have to be tiger stripes I earned. They came when I grew.
Stop.
feeling this
This!
I feel like even body positivity is too focused on, like, the appearance of the body. I know I became a whole lot happier with my body when I started thinking of it less in terms of how it looked (to me or anyone else) and realized, that, like…
When I feel cool breeze on my skin on a really hot day, my body did that for me.
When I step into a bath after a hike, and my muscles ache, but in a good way, and the steam all around me makes me feel like a flower blooming, my body did that for me.
And the hike before it, and standing on a large rock breathing the raw winter air seeing the power of the half-frozen river. That too.
When I’ve had a plate of pasta puttanesca, and I chopped and sauteed the ingredients and now I’m full-but-not-uncomfortable, and warm all over, and perfectly content, my body did that for me.
My body doesn’t have to look awesome to be awesome. It’s awesome because it’s where I live.
