The same week my dreadlocks turned six months old, I heard the following from the mouth of my 10-year-old daughter:
"My stomach is chubby. I want to be skinny."
Cuts. right. through. me.
You can create an environment and a home which celebrates diversity and embraces the true beauty in all people, yet the media still finds its way into their thought process. It isn't constant, but sometimes there is a window of vulnerability, and it slips right through and nestles into their delicate hearts. I have found freedom from it, and simply continue to live out my truth for my daughters.
I love every inch of me.
I am beautiful. My body tells a story.
My weathering hands mark my experiences and all those I have touched.
My straining eyes reflect all I have seen.
My sagging breasts tell of the life-giving milk they have shared.
My thinning skin gives a window into the very blood which has sped up through its passages with my changing lifestyle.
My feet very wisely created barriers of protection, representing the many miles I have walked in my own shoes.
My wayward eyebrows remind me of the freedom I have given myself to grow and change in whatever directions I should.
My legs show the falls and scrapes and tumbles ... and the healing.