Self-love is messy. It starts young and dies old. It’s staring in the mirror naked, trying not to see what the world wants you to. It’s anger, frustration. It’s hysterical crying in the shower at any time. It’s counting calories and keeping track in a diary you hide, because you don’t want the cool kids to notice. It’s thoughts of self-harm. It’s ugly and it never gets easier. There will always be bad days. But there will be less of them. You get used to checking yourself, before you let your mind get ahead. It’s about recognizing what you have, before you discredit your individuality.
On a day-to-day basis I interact with countless women who shame their own bodies and poison their minds continuously. I could sit there for hours and tell them that their beautiful, but it won’t matter until they can go home and say it to themselves. I watch women cry in dressing rooms, because they’re a size fourteen and not a twelve.
But there’s a flip-side…
I watch women who are sizes twenty and up love themselves backwards and forwards. I get to see beautiful fat babes where crop tops, bathing suits, show their arms, show their legs, and show off their true self. I get to watch women fall in love with themselves, just like I did. I get inspired by women, who do things I’m still working on. They’re confident. They’re bold. They own it. They just do it, because the best person to tell you it’s ok to do something is yourself.
I cannot sit here and tell you how to love yourself, because mostly I’m still learning. But also… because everyone does it differently. Each day shape shifts into a distinctive method. Some days that means dressing up, other days it means dressing down. Some days it means cake; some days it means a salad. Sometimes it means going for a walk, sometimes it’s Netflix and chill. For the most part these days, it just means me dancing around with no pants on. I do what feels right. I do anything and everything to give my mental state a high five. Self-love never looks the same and that’s ok. That fact alone is what makes it pretty messy; you’ve got to figure it out for yourself.
I read a quote from Anthony Bourdain today, “Your body is not a temple, it’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.”
Self love is messy.
Self love is beautiful.
I promise you…
Self love will save your life.
(So will cake.)