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Day Three Hundred and Thirty-Seven:  Bodies

  Are so strange.  They are wobbly, and imperfect, and stretched and mismatched, and every person is different.  I like to take a picture from a magazine into the hair dresser’s to have them do the same thing to my hair and It never comes out the same.  The thing about looking like someone is that that isn’t yourself.  I struggle with my body, because on some days I love it, and am grateful for the amount of shit that I put it through, the places I make it walk, the alcohol I make it endure, and for what?  To live life?  What is life without your body?  And sometimes, not often, I love it because I look beautiful in a little dress, or my eyes actually match in a picture, or my shoes and colours all match.  And then there are the times where I can’t stand my body because it just doesn’t look right.  The thing about bodies is that it is up to us to determine FOR OURSELVES what is beautiful.  And if you surround yourself with other people who think you are beautiful then I think you’re okay.  Or atleast that’s what I tell myself anyway.

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