A lot of us deal with insecurity or coming to terms with our “flaws.” We carry stuff around from bad messages, or times we were hurt, and I had this kind of wonderful breakthrough and could see the falsehood of all that stuff I was carrying. I felt inspired to say this stuff on paper and to address that lying little voice in my head that tells me I’m too much or not enough, or the wrong kind. I thought some of you might relate, especially after recently listening to episode 166 of the Life on the Swingset Podcast, and I wanted this.
Oh my sweet girl. Don’t you know? The people that hurt you say things about themselves with their actions and you always thought it was you.
You think you’re ugly, less than, too much. You hate your body and you try to shrink. You want to be smaller, so small that you won’t bother anyone, so colorless that they don’t see. You don’t bother those that matter. You’re precious. Don’t you see it?
Your pale skin is alabaster, reflecting the moon off of your curve. You are firm to the touch and giving, warm, luscious. Your skin that you wish was more golden, better, or different is lovely. Lovers will lose themselves in your skin. The things you will do!
Yes, you have had your moments, but there isn’t a damn thing wrong with your feeling. Being loved by you is a singular pleasure, a feast for the senses. You are not too much. You are enough. You are whole. Not everyone likes whole, but that’s okay. Just stop listening to those that aren’t there yet. You aren’t wrong to love even those you loved that didn’t deserve it. Maybe someday they get it.
It’s going to be a long time until you know you are beautiful. Shush. I hear that non-sense and it IS non-sense. You ARE beautiful.
Your past made you always sense the room, constantly check the mood of those around you. You don’t know they will hug you or yell at you or hurt you or shame you. You get the message that you are too much or not enough or the wrong kind.
The hunger they put in you, oh baby girl, you’ll spend decades on that one, but that is what it is. It will give you empathy. So at least there is that. You will touch so many souls with that bottomless love of yours. You want so badly to save the world. You are tenderhearted and always were. You picked the ugliest tree on the lot so it wouldn’t be lonely on Christmas. You wanted someone to tell the tree it was beautiful and you knew it had to be you.
You won’t be the shrinking ballerina that you wish to be, so delicate, fragile, and light. You are tempered steel my dear and yet so soft. It’s going to take a long time for you to see that this is just as it should be. You are stronger than you think, braver than you think, more resilient than you think. And this will eventually lead you to the love I wish for you. It will be your first tenuous reeds of loving yourself. You will feel the first glimmers of forgiveness of yourself when you help others. You’ll come to love your mind and your heart and the power of your body if not the shape. Your body will take longer for you to love. It will have experiences and marks. It will suffer. It will work so hard. It will carry you. It will hold those who cry and soothe those who hurt and it will help you tell a story. People will delight in your story. I promise.
Oh honey.. my dear… the things your body will do! Your body is a topography of pleasure. Oh how you will taste. Oh the tasting you will do! You will dance people right up to release and push them over. You will suck and knead and writhe and plead and beg. You will cajole and grip tight and squeeeeeeeze. You will be a force with your capacity to give and take of pleasure. You will ride and buck and scream. You may flood. You will taste and bite and tease. Oh my dear. You will swallow it all…you will swallow your lovers whole.
There are those that will try to hurt you for this. I’m sorry. They’ll call you everything, maybe because women aren’t allowed to feel this passion or are supposed to lie, and my dear, you will be far too honest.
You will want. You will want so much. You will want love and understanding and passion and compassion and silliness. You won’t always get it, but you’ll learn to ask for it and to appreciate it when it comes. You will offer a precious few the world, and for the most part they’ll crush it, but maybe not always. There will be those that squander what you gave them. And it won’t make sense. You will survive anyway.
You’ll make amends and strive to be better, making all of your many mistakes. But you will learn. Oh, my sweet, you will learn and learn and learn. You don’t know it yet, but you’re wonderful, exactly as you are. Hell yes you are flawed. But you are beautiful, so beautiful. I’m sorry it will take so long for you to see it.
So tell that voice in your head to shut up. It lies and it steals life. Tell it you know the lie even about your beautiful body. Love your hips my dear, your luscious ass. Love your stomach too. Love your thighs and your unruly bits. Love your breasts. How they will delight you and those that love them! For some reason you’ll think they’re wrong for years and you’ll be wrong about that too. They are perfect. They will learn to make you shudder and beg.
Love your glorious pussy, so versatile, so able. Your pussy is a treasure. Eventually you’ll believe them when they say you’re delicious. If you had the faintest idea of the things your pussy could do, my pet. Just stop. Love your pussy and your blemishes and freckles and marks too. Love you. Love your big laugh. Love your capacity to love. Love how you feel. Love the things you do. Love how hard you try. Yes. Even at long last love your body too. You’ll get it eventually, your pleasure, your gifts, your strength. You are beautiful. Beautiful. Yes I mean that word. You are beautiful.