You are more than a body

They said skinny, boxy figures were “beautiful.” I grew to hate my wide hips so I starved myself in a futile attempt to get rid of them. I wanted to take up less space so I ate less. Then less. Then less. They called me “Casper.” I grew to hate my pale skin. I lathered on baby oil and baked myself in the relentless Florida sun. They made jokes and crude insinuations about my red hair. I grew to hate my red hair. I’d argue with anyone who said it was red by vehemently stating it was “auburn, NOT red.” I attempted to dye it (twice - first brown then black). The first time, I was 16 with my best friend. The color washed out in a day. The second time, another best friend refused to do it because “the red is who I am.” In that moment and all the moments before that one, I don’t think I could tell you who that “I” was. I could lie to you and stand here beating my chest, preaching self love and how I’ve grown “soooo much” since I was younger. But, I still have days when those insecurities scream & my quiet, confident voice of self love can’t be heard. On the days when those hateful voices of my youth are too loud to drown out, I don’t try to convince myself that I’m beautiful. Rather, I tell myself over and over again: “you are more than beautiful. You are more than this body. You are kind. You are intelligent. You are strong. Driven. You love your friends and family with a terrible fierceness. You would do anything to drive out the pain within another human being. You are more than beautiful. You are more than a body.” And I hope that on your bad days you can remember this too. You are more than beautiful. You are more than a body.

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