Body Image

A History Of Bad Body Image

Girl faces away from the camera, hugging herself

I don’t talk very much at school — I don’t like that it draws attention — and I grow my frizzy hair out long so it covers my face, because my acne only got worse with age and I hate my glasses now and I feel better when I think no one can see me at all.

Your Body Is Not A Prison

I am not the fat on my stomach. Or the stretch marks on my thighs. I am not my crooked teeth or less than spectacular curves. I am a soul waiting to take flight, to break through the barriers of who we are told we are supposed to be.

This Body Is My Home, And I Will Celebrate It

I will love my body, even when the world shakes her head, even when there are a million and one reasons I shouldn’t, even when I’ve grown tired. Because my body is my home—my dwelling place, my residence, my constant in a world that is far too impermanent. And so, I will live here. I will love here. I will grow here. I will break and rebuild here.