I feel pretty some days. Not every day. Not all the time. But on occasion I feel fairly confident with my own image.
On the days I don’t feel pretty, I embrace being average. I don’t allow myself to dwell on negative thoughts or critique my appearance.
I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to align myself and my blog with the body positivity movement. I just was. I did me. Everyone else chose the label for me. So, I embraced my place as a spokesperson for the movement.
What does it mean to be body positive?
It means realizing that I am not perfect. It means realizing that everyone else isn’t either.
It’s accepting my body right now as it is for better or for worse. It’s accepting that I have an illness that manifests itself in inconvenient and unflattering ways not matter how I well I take care of myself.
I say thank you when complimented.
I shun filters and inaccurate portrayals of my body on social media. I will not alter my photos with Photoshop nor allow other people to alter my photos.
I never compare my body type to other people’s body types.
I refrain from fat and skinny shaming for I recognize beauty is not a standardized measure of worth.
I embrace my body at 90 pounds with bones protruding from malnurishment caused by Celiac disease. I embrace my body at 135 pounds after gaining stress weight.
I seek to impress no one. Not my husband. Not my friends. Not the fashion community.
I am free to think character-building, encouraging, creative, empathetic thoughts, because my mind isn’t cluttered with interpretations of what someone might be thinking. I don’t obsess over what I look like.
It’s the recitation of the serenity prayer.
It’s the boldness to stand up for myself.
It’s the freedom to be me. Every time. All the time. Pretty days. Sick days. Bad hair days. PMS acne days. Bloated days.
It’s living without judgment. Judgment from others. Judgment from myself. Judgment from imaginary demons.
It’s being me apologetically.