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This is the body.
This is the body that played hours of flashlight tag in our neighborhood after school, crawled through bushes that we called forts, and galloped like a horse (for way too many years 😂) as a giddy little girl.
This is the body that endured changing out before PE and four hour softball practices at 8:00 am most Saturdays. It hit home runs, struck out, and turned beet red in pubescent awkwardness daily.
This is the body that filled with butterflies during its first kiss, climbed out on the roof late at night with friends, ice blocked down golf courses, and danced awkwardly at many a High School dance.
This is the body that took me on my first date with the love of my life, that snorkeled Hawaii on our honeymoon, that was carried across the threshold of our condo.
This is the body that swelled with pregnancy, twice. This is the body that fought through labor, twice. This is the body that bled, broke, and became a mother.
This is the body that has been through every heartbreak, promotion, detention, strike out, make out, tantrum, and hospitalization. It’s been small and big. It’s been smooth and stretch-marked. It’s seen every chapter of life and walked bravely into each next.
I wouldn’t be the woman I am now without every scar, scrape, and memory seared into this body.
And that’s why this is the body I’ll no longer edit, deprive, or punish. It’s the body I’m finally learning to be simply be thankful for.