I reclaim this body

I reclaim this body. Every inch of her. Even the parts I avoid looking at in the mirror, the parts I don’t want you to notice. I reclaim her beauty, her power, her wisdom.

This body has seen me through 43 trips around the sun. My childhood, being shuffled back and forth between my parents up and down the east coast. My teen years, looking like a woman long before I knew how to become one. My twenties, working insane hours & pushing her to her limits trying desperately to prove I was capable of building a career I didn’t even want. My thirties, liberating myself from that career, walking down the aisle and carrying three babies in my womb (only two made it full term). And now my forties, in full recognition of all this body has carried me through.

I do not look like I did in my teens, twenties or thirties. Of course I don’t, how could I? My body has evolved as I have. Life has created her curves. Becoming a mother made my belly sag, feeling love and grief and laughter and shame and everything in between gave me the lines on my face. This body is my home. And I love her, every inch.