For as long as I can remember, my hips were the "chapter" of my body's story that I never knew how to love. It was as if I carried a family inheritance that, frankly, I never asked for.
Disproportionate in my eyes, they marked a difference that I didn't want to accept. Over time, I understood that part of my rejection came from how those curves exposed me to premature sexualization which attracted gazes I didn't wish for, especially from older men.
That unwanted attention made me ignore the parts of my body that I did like as I got lost in a tangle of dissatisfaction and desire to be different.
But then, there was a change... a photo that captured my essence in a way I had never seen before. Without the disguises of loose clothing or the high heels that sought to lengthen my legs, instead, just me.
That image was a bridge to acceptance, showing me that the distance between what I saw and what truly was, wasn't so vast.
I've learned to appreciate my skin, its color, the strength in my shoulders, the softness of my chest, and yes, on good days, even my waist.
My hips, the focus of my judgment for years, now receive care, cream, and massages; small acts of love that have changed my perception.
I've discovered that sometimes, all it takes is to view ourselves through a lens of love to appreciate our true beauty. Through this journey, I've discovered a sense of peace and acceptance that requires daily renewal. Sometimes, beauty lies in the act of receiving love, especially one's own.
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