We all have that one girlfriend who cannot stop complaining about her stretch marks, the cellulite on her legs and the one accumulated around her knees. She calls them “pork knuckles” and constantly covers them with long dresses, skirts or trousers. What a silly woman!
There will soon come a day, a day that belongs to the category of “old age,” when she will regret hiding her knees. And not wearing more short dresses or ponced around with unseen joy and freedom of movement.
If you don’t have such friend, it is enough just to look at yourself in the mirror. You are that person. There’s no mistake, you are the one who hates her own freckles, that deep furrow on your forehead, and many other things.
You are the same woman who smothers her stretch marks with all kinds of oils and then silently prays they will disappear by next morning as if erased with a magic eraser.
You are the obsessed woman who hates the C-section scar on her stomach, her wide hips and curves, and the dimples in her cheeks as well.
You are that tiresome woman who cannot cease to talk about “spoilers,” “weddings,” the cut that heals slowly and leaves a scar, and you also hate all these things from the bottom of your soul.
We, all the women who have marked these phenomena as flaws and drawbacks, are in need of a little more reasoning and a bit more scolding. All of us who think that these things make our bodies ugly must come to our senses, because they are in fact our personal work of art.
We were born with empty, blank canvases, and now we have the scars that testify of our struggle.
We have the C-section scars and stretch marks that testify of what is like to become a mother. We have wrinkles from hard laughter and deeper ones from sadness, because what would life be like without some indispensable bitterness in the sweet sea.
Whoever labeled these mute witnesses of life, imprinted on our bodies, as “unsightliness,” had no idea what they were doing.
Apparently, they haven’t seen how the freckles on a smiling girl’s face disperse in sunlight. They don’t understand cheek dimples, nor high cheekbones. They don’t understand the joy of a healthy body covered with imprints that sealed themselves and became just ours.
Embrace your “flaws” firmly. Hug them and gently caress all your tattoos, scars and stretch marks. Learn to love them deeply and sincerely.
We cannot (and we shouldn’t) all be the same to be beautiful. Beauty lies in diversity. It lies in uniqueness. And our imprints make us unique.
Life would be so dull and boring if we were all identical. Be who you are.
Let’s set some new standards of beauty. Let’s be proud of our curves and our protruding collarbones. Because they are pretty, sexy and appealing. You don’t have to search for someone who will love you for these things, because you should love yourself first and you should learn to love your unique features.
They are a part of who you are. They are a proof that you’ve existed and you’ve lived. Let’s wear them with pride. Let’s create a world in which diversity and the unusual are celebrated. A world in which imperfection is called BEAUTY.