Why I Refuse to Love Myself Less Because I am Thin

“We are facing an epidemic of women who feel unworthy of being called beautiful.” ~Jade Twilite Beall

This horse has been beat and I am sure you are all exhausted as I of hearing it, but I will speak it until it needs to be said no longer.

I will not love my body, my trivial wrapping paper, less because I am thin.

Each time I use a photo of myself, the most recent was my nude bum rejoicing, there is always a finger wagging saying, “Easy for you to love yourself.”

Who the hell are you to tell me that it is easy to love myself?

Enough with tearing one another down—we are all battling for self love and acceptance, we need to quit pushing each other down and up for air.

Our battles are different, and they are the same. It’s all to find love at the end of the day.

We are all here to be at home in our hearts.

We are all here to do the hard work to make our spirits shine.

We are here to learn to love each birthmark under our chin, each scar, each fly away frizz that fights through the best straightening iron money can buy.

So hear my roar, world:

I love my soul vessel!

I love my curly, bat shit crazy hair!

I love my knobby knees that caused me to be bullied in Junior high by the boys basketball team!

I love my little hips, that you bet your ass can bare children!

I love my heart that beats, too open in my chest!

I love my mosquito pancake breasts!

I love the wrinkles forming on my skin from too much sun! I love my sensitive as shit nature and empath heart, too!

I love it all.

Yes, I love me.

I love me, because I choose to. I am not afraid to be who I am out loud.

I will not cower and shake and stay in the dark.

“Do no harm, but take no shit.” ~ unknown

And when you hear me say that I love myself, resist the urge, for a moment, to sigh and say, “She is making love to her ego”, for we are here to shine and I intend on wiping my being clean of fear and insecurity and getting down to business with each molecule of my skin.

I’m tongue kissing my soul and life is delicious.

We need to scowl less at love—trade in judgment and comparison for compassion.

So, save your shit. I am celebrating over here and you are raining on my “size, who gives a fuck” sunshine.