Truce

For as long as I can remember I’ve hated my body.

I have analyzed every part of it, and rather than asking myself: “is this part good?” or “is this party useful?”  It’s always been, “just how bad IS this?”, “how could this be changed/improved?”

Always operating in the derogatory.
Always assuming I am deficient.
Insufficient.
Lacking because of excess. 

In fact, I’ve never assessed myself fairly next to someone else. The benefit has ALWAYS gone to the other person.

“Oh! Those must be the legs I should have.”

“That must be the way I’m supposed to do my hair.”
"Her size is the size I’m supposed to be.”

Everyone else is the expert. Everyone else’s voice is stronger, louder, more authoritative.

It’s only been recently, sadly at the age of almost-35, that it has occurred to me that this is not normal. Well, maybe it’s normal, but it’s not right. It’s not good. It’s not true.

If everyone else gets a say, when do I get to? When do I get to be me?

Enough.

I can’t spend one more year, one more day in this body hating every part of it.

So I’m making a resolution….no, scratch that, I never keep resolutions. I think this will be a peace treaty.  I’m declaring peace with my body,  and I’m going to spend the next year figuring out what that looks like.