I have not met a single person in my life that has not questioned at least a single ounce of their worth. Or their endless capabilities to overcome the stormiest days of their lives. It is as though it is our inherent nature to doubt the extraordinary in us, no matter how far we’ve come in life because of it. The social constructs in our lives have left us dull beyond repair. They’ve driven us down pothole-ridden pavements, convincing us that the imperfections we carry burden the drivers that cross its path. We question our destinies and we question the bodies that carry us there.
I have met countless people who have questioned the curves and ridges of their bodies to a hair. I, too, have struggled to accept the body that has brought me more good days than bad. Yet, for some reason, the bad days become all-consuming to a point that I forget rainbows can’t shine without a little bit of storm. I remember that my body is what woke me up on mornings I didn’t think I could. My legs, with their scars from dark days, bruises from clumsiness, and cellulite from womanhood, walked me across the world, to my favorite coffee shops, and down the sandiest of beaches. My hands, that seem to age earlier than most, were platforms for nail art, pet dogs with the biggest fluff, and went numb on paper when inspiration struck at 2am on a school night. My fingers have typed stories my mouth couldn’t bear to say out loud. My arms held babies until they were taller than me and hugged so many “almost-forevers.” My belly, with the pudge social media seems to scorn, has laughed until it hurt and ate treats that made the bad days a bit better. It’s given clothes a whole new meaning and swimsuits a new identity. My hips, with dips that don’t fill jeans just right, held me up at concerts where my voice got lost in the echoes of countless arenas and stages. My skin, prone to stretching, scarring, and breakouts, has felt millions of kisses, touched thousands of souls, and absorbed countless sunny days and rainy nights. It has absorbed the smells of beach days, bakery runs, homecooked meals, and sweat-ridden workouts.
You see… Your body, just like mine, has helped you survive every single day you thought you couldn’t. Every single day you thought you wouldn’t because the cruelty of the world made you believe you shouldn’t. Some days it may be hard to see that light in you because you’re so focused on the clouds and honestly, that’s what humbles us. Those moments of weakness allow us to reflect on the faults we all carry and open our eyes to the epitome of what makes us all human. In a humbling sense, it allows us the opportunity to acknowledge the imperfections that we all possess, all while understanding that picking others apart is hypocritical. Sometimes we have tendencies to pour our own insecurities onto others by pulling at their differences because we aren’t at peace with our own. The world is full of silent lovers that watch us, adore us, and desire to possess the qualities that we take for granted. When we accept this odd rendition of a tragic love story, our peace will fulfill us, too. It’s not your typical love story. The protagonist is you. The antagonist is you. The plot begins and ends with you, all in a battle between love and hate, resentment and peace, fulfillment and tragedy…
At the end of the day, the body you resent is the body that fights to keep you going. It fights to beat the odds you may not have believed stood a chance against the world. It’s giving you its all every single day without you realizing it, the least we could all do is stop taunting its power. The remix to your love story begins and ends with you.
Mel's Vision 