I am round where others are flat, flat where others are round.
I have rough skin on the bottoms of my feet, soft skin on the backs of my knees.
I have freckles, marks, scars and bruises. I breath deep gulps of air.
I am not like anyone before or anyone who is to come, other than our ends.
I have no reason to compare myself to others.
Not the rounding of my thighs, or the set of my eyes.
Not my train of thought, nor the way my hands flutter through the air when I talk.
These are possessions that are unconditionally mine.
I didn’t have to pay for them, I didn’t have to bargain, haggle and scrimp for them.
I didn’t have to pine after them on the pages of magazines.
Nor desire them from the pages of books.
My eyes do not see them elsewhere.
I do somethings better than others, I do many things worse than others.
I need not compare my talents to others.
I need not compare accomplishments or failures of others to my accomplishments and failures.
So, my curves, my imperfections, are not imperfect.
I am perfect. I am a perfect me.
Me.
Selfish, perhaps.
However, I have to repeat these words each time I feel the doubt and fear creeping in.
I am a perfect me.
You.
Reading this right now, you are the perfect you.
The set of your eyes, the hitch of your stride.
The scars you have or don’t have.
You are the perfect you.
Relish in your perfection, often.
Praise your perfection.
Worship your soft, your rough.
The curve, the hollow, the point, the flat.
Let’s agree you are perfect, I am perfect.
Live in your perfection.
Stop comparisons.
Start self praise.
I am a perfect me.
(Source: thatkindofwoman)
