My body.

Today, I hate my body. I’m in a pair of jeans that are probably a size too small because my love handles are jutting out. I’m wearing a baggy shirt because my food baby is growing every day and it hangs over the button of my pants. I’m in a cardigan because this morning when I looked in the mirror, I saw fat, flabby arms. I have my hair up because it was threatening to become greasy if I left it down. I have little makeup on because I was too tired to deal with foundation and liquid eyeliner.

Today, I hate my body. I hate the way it fits into my clothes. I hate how it looks nude. I hate the discolouration in my cheeks and the bags under my eyes. I hate how my feet are going to smell when I take my boots off. I hate that I can see the stupid scar on my right arm from when I dropped a knife off the counter and tried to catch it. I hate it all.

But that’s okay. Because tomorrow, I’ll like the fact that I’m no longer a 00. I’ll remember that my love handles and food baby mean I’m well fed. I’ll put on my favourite bra that gives me the illusion of boobs. I’ll probably take a selfie.

I think it’s okay to hate your body some days. It’s natural. And it sucks when you wake up feeling like you’re fat and ugly. But then tomorrow comes. And you get to start over.

So today, I’m going to keep hating my body. But tomorrow, I’ll strive to appreciate it and all its flaws.


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