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I woke up this morning and today was one of those days. Self-loathing won the fight, against my best wishes and unearthed comparisons that made my self-confidence wilt. Self-loathing wins as I wish I had breasts larger than the first letter of the alphabet, breasts that were the third letter, maybe the fourth so that my back would strain to their weight and that dress with its low cut in the back of my closet could become of some use. Twin peaks of supple flesh dancing the pronounced line between naked and clothed.

I wish my ass was large enough to balance a martini glass on the space between it and my back, isn’t that what I, as a black woman, am supposed to aspire to be? Bountiful curves that emphasize my identity as a woman? It’s definitive of my blackness as well as my woman-ness, right? Thick like the creamy consistency of a milkshake, the shape of an hourglass or a coke bottle, or akin to something else delicious – my thin is most definitely not in.

I wish I had an even tone in places scars now call home, dotting my cheeks, speckling my chest. I wish my second toe was not bigger than my first. I wish my arms were not so skinny or so long. I wish my hair didn’t fight with me some days. I wish that my eyebrows were not so fleeting and aching to be filled.

I wish… I sometimes didn’t have these thoughts, but sometimes I do.

And whenever I do, I think quickly of the parts of me I do love, and even the parts that I wish to change in a light that has me accepting my God-given image, as He does not make mistakes.

Self-confidence wins as self-love regains its prominence. I love me. I love the marble softness of my supple rotund derriere, the freckles that mar the backs of my hand, the hole in my ear near my temple, the two dimples in my lower back, the way my eyes squint when I smile and how they disappear completely whenever I laugh. I love the breasts that fill my hands, their peaks that refuse to rise but do in the wake of a cool breeze or thoughtful lips. For me, proportion has become beauty. I love that in spite of my wish to have clearer skin, I find myself beautiful and I do so unhidden and unabashedly.

I love me. It’s no longer a wish.

Self-loathing can’t always win.

Sheriden