Author’s Note: Today, I turn 33 years old. It has definitely been an interesting three and a half years since my daughter was born and life changed in a big way. I think that I have learned more about myself in these few short years than in many others combined throughout my lifetime. I see myself differently, am taking better care of myself, am learning to love others better, and live my faith and purpose more honestly and, I hope, effectively. I do more than like myself at 33. I truly believe that I have finally learned to love myself.
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My form is a thing of beauty.
Take all your definitions of allure
And weigh them in your hands,
As I make mine my own.
Breasts, waist, hips, legs,
Arms, stomach, shoulders, back.
All I work to make strong.
This I do for myself,
For the good of my body as well as my soul.
To be strong enough in body to hold the skies on my shoulders
But soft enough in soul to hold joy in the sway of my hips
And grace in the reach of my hands.
My mind is a work of art.
Growing and challenged still,
Deeply considering and intense.
My intelligence has not been silenced by time,
But continues to grow and refine with new challenges.
My art is a meeting of thought and feeling,
Pulled together, chiseled, and shaped.
I share my art with a desire for hope,
Encouragement, uplifting, and joy.
I write to challenge to love, to kindness, to compassion.
I write to create refuge, worlds in which to escape,
To send out words that my own voice might find difficult to speak.
I sing to birth joy. I dance to proclaim free. I dress to cry beauty.
I write and post and mail to connect and pull threads together.
In life. In community. In love. In friendship. In chosen family.
I am a being made unqiue and becoming uniquer still.
The older I get, the finer I am becoming.
You should rejoice. I’d love for you to rejoice.
If you don’t, though, that’s your choice.
But, most of all, I just want you to smile with me.