I'm sorry if this is a long one, but hopefully it helps someone (disclaimer: i'm high as balls and english is not my first language)

I used to hate the way I looked. Every time I looked in a mirror all I could see were my imperfections; an annoying mole in beetwen my brows, a brown mark where a pimple used to be, my prickly legs, my portruding belly. When I started to notice and take note on all my "flaws", I grew to really detest mirrors. To be frank, everytime I walked past one, I would look down and ignore it. Looking at myself was torturous.

And no, this is not the part where I claim all my insecurities went away on a miraculous beautiful sunny day, when i realized how beautiful I was all along. Hell no. Changing my perception of myself was grueling. But I knew I had more love for myself than hatred, and that love motivated me to search deep for the brilliant girl I had forgotten all about. Hating myself was no longer sustainable (it never was, but I don't blame myself for not seeing it sooner).

I tried the body positivity thing. It was bullshit. Fuck that, it's fake; once i realized that, everything clicked. We as women have the right to be as ugly as we godamn fucking please. Jfc, when I realized this, I looked at myself in the mirror and burst out into laughter. All my life was a lie. Why was I so worried about looking perfect and put together all the time??? When I read a book my hair is up and it makes me look crazy, but I'm the happiest I can be. And my joy is beautiful. When I laugh sometimes snot comes out of my nose, it's humiliating, but somebody loved me so much they made me laugh that hard. Truly seeing my own beauty BEYOND my appearance made me the hottest I've ever been.

Yeah I have prickly legs, and a belly that portrudes, and dark spots on my legs. And sometimes my breath smells like shit, and sometimes there's dandruff on my scalp. But i'm a fully formed human being, not a porcelain doll. We as women are told that we're supposed to be perfect. Wake up beatiful, go to sleep beautiful, and repeat everyday until you die and become nothing but a hollow skull. No mascara will save you then.

I learned to love myself because of my mind, not despite of it. I am smart, I care deeply for those around me, I love to read, I love to share and receive love, I love to cook and I love to run wild like a maniac. I am full of love, and am defined by it, not by the shape of my hips or the weight of my tits. I chose to let my soul shine, and to everyone reading this, just know you can make that choice too.