I can be beautiful for my daughter

I need to learn to love my body.

I’ve had this body for thirty-five years and it’s never fully made me happy.

The shoulders are too broad.

The hips are too narrow.

The belly is too squishy.

The feet are too wide.

The legs are too short.

The chins are too many.

And I have this child.

She’s eight.

She is everything smart and funny and bright and exhilarating in the world.

She has the eight year old version of this same body.

And? SHE.IS.GLORIOUS.

I need to stop telling her that she’s NOT.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by constantly mentioning how I need to lose weight..which I do, but she doesn’t need to hear about it.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by picking at my muffin top.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by wincing at the ole’ bingo flaps.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by bitching about how the pants aren’t too long, my legs are just too stumpy.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by telling her I hate pictures of myself…when everyone tells her we look so much alike.

I need to learn to love this body.

Because she shows me how beautiful we are, every day.