|Why did I post these self-portraits?|
Just like most stories, the answer lies in the last paragraph.
My butt jiggles when I walk. And I like it. It adds character to my strut. I'm healthy, I exercise, I do my squats, but I'm a jiggler. When I leave a room, Mr. Branflake tells me I have it going on. I thank the jiggle.
My thighs have always touched. I never knew people cared about thigh touching until Pinterest made it seem wrong with all their inner thigh exercise tutorials being pinned every minute. I'm okay with my thighs touching- it's how I'm made. They're muscular and they can withstand the rigors of dance life. Thigh touching is the least of my worries.
I don't understand why God gives His children stretch marks. Much like spiders, I personally think He could have done without. But I have them. I don't love them, nor will I ever look at them and think, "Those are beautiful," but they're a part of me forever and, much like spiders, I have to learn how to live with them.
But if there were the off chance I could kill every spider in the world, I would do it.
My ankles are gorgeous. They're thin and muscular. They also have cellulite. "How is that possible?" you ask. I don't know, but when I do my stretches in the morning, I look down and see puckers of fat along my Achilles tendon.
Not even my tiny ankles could escape the curse of tapioca skin.
My skin is so smooth sometimes it freaks me out, like when Tom on Parks and Rec over-exfoliates and says they feel like raw chicken. Okay, now I'm exaggerating. Because I actually love my skin's softness. Blame it on the massive amounts of olive oil in my diet or perhaps the fact that water is the only beverage I drink, my skin rivals the softest petals and smoothest velvet.
I literally gasped when I saw myself naked in the mirror after Mr. Branflake put in a higher watt light bulb in our bathroom light. I looked so much... better. Unflattering lighting needs to leave every woman's home this second. Spend an extra five dollars and give yourself a better reality.
Speaking of a better reality, I took the photos above and realized how much I look like my mom. So I posted them because I like my mom and I want to remember this moment- the moment I was grateful for looking like her.
What's your body's reality?