I'm not going to shame my body so you feel better about yours

I can’t count the number of times that I’ve sat with friends

Getting ready to go dancing

Or on a date or just drinking wine and talking about life

And the conversation turns

 

To how much they hate their thighs

The slight crookedness of their nose

The roundness of their belly

They look into the mirror and cringe

Unable to see their own beauty

 

And they wait in anticipation

For me to say that I hate the stretch marks

That make a sun around my belly button

Or the way my breasts are no longer

As perky as they were before I had a child

 

I don’t say these things

I say “you’re beautiful and so am I”
And I know that you secretly want me to shame my body

So you feel better about yours, or at least that I’m commiserating

But I won’t do either of us that disservice

 

I fucking love women who support other women

But we’re often too quick to chime in with cries of

“You hate your body? Ha! Look at mine!”

 

It might feel like support or love or kindness

But It’s not, it’s a cop out

An easy way to reduce the miracle of all that our bodies do for us

A sharp remark that we wish was a plastic surgeon's scalpel

 

And I’m not going to do it

Even if it makes you feel uncomfortable

I can’t make you love your body

But I hope that me loving mine will help