My Body. My Prayer. My Soul.

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Photo by Drop the Label Movement on Unsplash

Dear Body, Dear You:

How long I have abused you and ignored your wisdom. Chastised you to fit smaller when you are a galaxy of real. Your legs have walked with me and your hands have dried my tears. You’ve carried my heart and protected my growing soul. You aren’t an object to be used and abused but to be loved and so I write this for you.

I understand you weren’t taught how to love yourself. And I realize, without a doubt, that society has marketed a certain brand of an acceptable female body size. Thin and tall, angular and petite, younger, svelte and delicate equals feminine. This list praises women who fit this scale.

What a misconception. It hurts my heart.

If there’s nothing wrong with them than there’s nothing wrong with you. We have a lot to teach as we share an exquisite bandwidth about our differences.

Tragically women {and men} die (literally and figuratively), contorting, overspending and dieting and abusing themselves to fit in. I know you’ve tried because you felt ashamed and thought you were to blame.

“Do you really need another dessert?” How often did you want to say, “Fuck, yes I do!”

I need that dessert because it is a river of love and sweet and kind and it doesn’t tell me awful things about how I look and how I don’t want to conform to you.

What I also have to say is this:

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Love the body you have. Befriend her size. Take your time. She’s carried you for this long. Love what is inside and out. Those estuaries of stretchmarks are a familiar tattoo and symbol of womanly who has had ups and downs with life.

The blemishes. The quirks. The limps. The bumps. The aches. The rolls. The shape. Love your body. The holiness of her wealth. The scars of her life. Let go of the corset of sexism.

Close the magazines. Walk away from clothes that are too tight.

Curvy isn’t wrong. Svelte isn’t right.

Tall. Short. Angular. Round. Wide feet. Wide nose. Let’s respect our skin color on a spectrum of midnight velvet to the shades of sandy white. Let’s celebrate.

Let’s dance on the forgiving Earth who understands the opal Moon in all her shapes and never condemns. Let’s hold hands and hearts and create a chain that ends the violence of how body shame has conditioned us.

My body. My prayer. My soul.

With love & respect,


Dreamer. Poet. HSP. Empath. Licensed MH Therapist. 3 books published. 3X Top Writer. Love espressos & my chunky cat.

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