Well, haven’t you always wanted to see me naked? I thought so.

From the first time I saw an exposed post I knew that I had to participate. If for no other reason, I had to because the idea of doing it scared me. What would people think if they saw all my lumpy glory? Is it too sketchy to post such a thing?

As I thought about it more, though, I simply had to. How many people out there hate their bodies? I don’t. I love mine, in fact. True, I don’t like everything about it. It is not an objectively beautiful body but the things it’s done and the things it can do are quite remarkable. I survived being run over by a car, relearning how to walk, run, and use my right arm. Somehow my torso was not crushed when the tire drove over it. It was nothing short of a miracle that my insides weren’t crushed.

If nothing else ever made me love my body, that did.

Yet, to top that, I have vocal chords that enable me to do what I love most, sing.

I have the capacity to run, dance, skip, and so much more.

And let’s not dance around it, my body brings me pleasure… but we discussed that two weeks ago.

I have a face that communicates kindness and excitement about life. My eyelashes are enviable. I have ridiculous hair that makes me laugh most mornings when I look in the mirror. I will never tan because I love my fair skin.

Enough of singing my own praises, though, here’s the evidence.

My notes are a bit jumbled and disorganized but it’s fitting because so are my thoughts most of the time.

Last night my body did a run that I was convinced I couldn’t do. It’s worthy of the narcissistic navel gazing I’m doing right now.

It’s true, it’s not perfect and we might as well be honest about the fact that I’d love to be thin and stretch mark free, but I’m grateful for what I am and who I am. My body and my scars tell a story of what I’ve been through, what I’ve overcome, and how strong I am. You might look at it and cringe but I might just slap you with that crafty little thing.

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