Let me tell you now that my body is far from perfect.

It’s covered in stretch marks, scars, cuts, and bruises. They start from my face, down to my neck, then my chest and shoulders, to my back, to my wrists, and to my legs. I’m far from a burn victim, but I feel as if I was one. It’s awkwardly shaped too. I slouch forward a lot, and I’m probably not far from a hump. My stomach and belly are filled with fat. It looks like I have two stacked and pregnant bellies. My hips are probably my worst feature. They hang over my sides like an uneven water balloon on the edges of a brick.

But now that I’m a woman, I need to honor my body.

When I see my worst features, I turn them around to be my best. My stretch marks are signs of my growth. My scars are signs of my resilience, and the cuts and bruises are signs that I still fight on.

The shape of my body is one like no other. My back shows that I’m intensely focused. My stomach and belly are perfect for rubbing, and show that although I love food, I don’t go overboard, and I don’t underwhelm myself. My hips are perfect for grabbing, and for bumping haters to the side. My body’s a temple, and it has it’s own language. It tells others when to come close, when to back off. When I sashay, it shows that I’m confident and bursting with energy. I walk slowly when I’m tired, but my tall posture still shows that I am always moving forward. I cross my arms to show that I’m closed off, but they creep down, and a smile spreads across my face. With my hands, I can say “hello”, make peace, or even make trouble. My body, most importantly, is what makes me, me.

“It’s the fire in my eyes,  and the flash of my teeth,  the swing in my waist, and the joy in my feet. I’m a woman. Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.” -Maya Angelou, Phenomenal Woman