Loving Your Flaws

I was 8 years old, and I hated myself. I hated being different than everyone else. I hated my skin. I hated the dots on my skin. "Angel kisses" as my family called them. I wanted them gone. My imperfections. My biggest insecurity. No matter how hard I scrub, they won't go away. Google told me to bleach my skin. Take a milk bath. I want to look like everyone else. I hate my own skin.

I was 12 years old, and I hated myself. I hated my teeth. I hated how crooked and messed up they were. I hated the metal in my mouth. I hated how ugly I felt. I hated my smile. I wouldn't talk because I didn't want people to see. Even though kids my age had them, I still felt like I was the only one. I never spoke a word to avoid the humiliation of food in your teeth. I hated my smile.

I was 16 years old, and I hated myself. I hated my chest. I hated how skinny I was. I hated how no clothes fit me right. I hated how I couldn't fill out a bra without it being a pushup bra. I hated how I felt about myself. I hated how I thought people thought of me. I hated how boys saw me. I hated how I was always taller than any guy I liked. I hated how I saw myself. I hated my body.

I am 20 years old, and I hated myself. I hate how I used to feel about myself. I hate the fact that I hated myself. I hate how I used to see my freckles. My most distinct feature. My favorite thing about myself. I love the galaxy on my skin, connecting each dot as a star in a constellation. I love my skin.

I hate how I used to hate my smile. I hate how I hated to speak to people. I hate that I wasted so much time hating myself. I hate how I hated my body. My chest, all my own, all mine to decide how to feel about it. I choose how I see myself. I chose to hate myself, and now I choose to love every inch of myself. I love my eyes, lashes long and thick. I love my eyes, color like the stem of a flower in springtime. I love my cheeks, covered in those "Angel kisses". I love my chest, because it's mine. My breasts something I was ashamed of, but now I see differently. I love my breasts, the way they resemble the works of art you see in the Louvre. I love my breasts the way a woman should. I stopped hating myself. I stopped hating how I looked in the mirror. I stopped hating how tall I was. I hated how I was too scared to wear heels. I love my long legs. I love myself. I hate how I hated myself.

I started to love myself when I stopped thinking about the opinions of others.

#love