It grieves me to read women commenting on other women’s pictures: “You are so tiny!” “Such slenderness!” “Your delicate frame is gorgeous!” “Look at how small your waist is!” I honestly want to comment back, “Who gives a shit?” or “Why are you making this picture about her weight? This woman is a beautiful creature in so many ways, and all you see are the pounds she doesn’t carry, as if that’s what makes up an admirable enough quality to be worthy of your praise?”
But no, really…who gives a shit?
I wish someone would tell me that my eyes have a rich and earthy shade of brown. I was born with these eyes, you know. Or that they like the sound my voice makes, or that my comfortableness in my own skin is emboldening, or that they can hear hope on the tip of my tongue.
Or what about looking in the mirror at our own cells and saying, "That is one damn fine specimen." Slip out of your body for a moment and step aside. Look at what glory you hold.
What about the songs we carry in our throats that stay under lock-down for their own "protection"? There will always be someone waiting to shoot you to the ground. Always. Your songs are stronger than brittle, insecure plastic pellets. Sing them. Sing them strong and loud. Thrust that haunting, chill-inducing voice of yours, that wildling call, into the air, out to the ocean. Someone is waiting to hear it and come home.
Be home in your body, in your voice. Welcome your whole self home.
“What would it take to welcome your whole self home?” A magical woman named Maeve who I met in Scotland said that to me once. What would it take? What stops us from welcoming our whole selves home? Think about what is stopping you, begin to understand and push on those walls. Self love is a muscle that we must work to strengthen every day. Those walls will give more easily as you grow stronger. Dance them down.