𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐠𝐞.
It seems counterintuitive. As the fine lines of laughter slowly find their permanent homes around my eyes, as the evidence of the life I carried settles into a different skin than I once knew...I suddenly find it easier to see myself, every angle, without that anguish and judgment I used to bestow upon myself when the reflection looking back at me was younger and smoother.
This picture? I can still see the things that would once have meant a "delete" from me. The rolling of my chin, the angle of my nose, the size of my forearm at this perspective...vain? Maybe. Things no one else would see? Probably. But for years they tormented me. Dysmorphic views. I only accepted certain "angles" of myself, when there are so many more angles that make up the whole, beautiful "me."
These aren’t the most flattering of the photos I took this day, and I liked how I looked better in a few...but these? My baby's face is radiant. Her smile beaming as she laughed at the silly games we were playing. I'm glowing with my love for her, and I hope with all my heart that she never dissects any of her perfect "angles" with the scrutiny I have my own.
Its an ongoing journey - loving the skin you're in - but more worth it than ever with a pair of bright little eyes watching your every move. She thinks she's learning from me, but I learn more from her and my love of her everything single day.