My body is mine. It used to not belong to me. I would give it to others to satisfy my loneliness and my hurt. I used to treat my body like it was a punching bag. I even let others punch me. My body was not mine.

When I stepped into my new body I realized how powerful it was. My body carries my soul. My pretty painted toes on my feet carry the vessel that houses my soul every single day without fail. I’m able to walk to spread my arms around the ones I love. I’m able to see with my sparkly hazel eyes that my mother gave me when she carries me in her loving, protective womb. And someday I will be able to carry and create a soul inside my womb safe and sound with motherly love just as she did.

I used to hate my vagina. I thought my labia were too long and my pubis was too squishy and too hairy. Now when I think of her I see a beautiful flowers with luscious petals or love and sexiness.

I always thought my butt was too big and my breast were too small. I grimaced at my stretch marks and thought they were ugly and disgusting. Now when I walk and feel my legs touching each other I think of them as friends carrying me and my tushy is thick and strong and my stretch marks are little streams connecting them all together. My boobs are perfect handfuls of fun and feminine beauty. I see a sexy liberated woman.

My belly and I have a long history of polar opposites depending on my age. In my early twenties I was obsessed with getting her as flat as possible. I would go to the gym and run until I wanted to throw up. I would stretch and crunch and beat my abs until I was sore and could hardly walk. I used to be so mean to my belly. Now in my late twenties I forgive myself for being so hard on her. I decorate my navel with jewels and sparky things. I dazzle and jiggle and fill her with things that make me happy. I eat ice cream and pizza. Pasta and breadsticks. Fried rice and potstickers. I am happy with my curves and waves like the open road and oceans waves crashing. I see a curvy goddess.

For a long time I hates my face. I thought I was so ugliest girl alive and kids at school made sure I believed that. They would call me a boy and said I didn’t look like a girl at all with my acne prone skin and my greasy hair. I didn’t have my glow up until high school, but I still hated myself. It wasn’t until just recently in my late twenties that I started to see what others like my mother saw. I wasn’t shamed of my nose anymore. Instead I was grateful that it was given to me by my late father. My eyes were given to me by my mother and if you ever met her you would say that we look just alike. My jaw is very square and edgy and I used to hate my butt chin. Now I’m grateful and blessed to have such amazing jaw and cheek structure like my mother. I see a beautiful woman filled with love and kindness. I see natural curves and feminine energy. I see a powerful goddess ready to explore the world around her.

I hope you see yourself as powerful and worthy and filled with endless possibilities. You deserve to look at yourself with love and compassion. Do yourself a favor and buy the biggest full length mirror you can find and just look at yourself. All of you and I request you start to make little promises to each park of your body you dislike. A promise that you will love them one day. Because you deserve to love yourself you beautiful goddess.

Take care,

Maggie xo

By itsmaggie92

Hi I'm Maggie and I'm a 28 year old cat lady that loves writing and anything fun and adventurous.

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