By Edythe N.
I remember the moment I fell in love with myself. I remember the feeling of knowing this was it, the one person I would be with for the rest of my life. I can depend on me. I would always be there, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health.
I remember first the fights. I fought so hard because I didn't like the way I looked in that dress, I yelled for how much I weighed, I cried because I didn't know if this would ever end. The yelling, the crying, the animosity and not knowing if it would last. The not knowing if I could do it anymore.
But then I remember the making up. I remember picking myself up off of the bathroom floor, taking a warm bath and reading myself to sleep. I remember apologizing to my skin for not wanting to live in it anymore. I remember waking up knowing it would be a good day because I woke up. I remember making amends with the scars, knowing that they were there to stay and should only remind me of how much I love myself now.
And now I only remember the love. I love the way my wrists seem so fragile they could snap in half, but they are so strong. I love the way my voice sounds in the shower and out. I love my stretch marks because it shows where I've been. I love my hair even though it's always knotty and never behaved. I love the way my nails grow. I love how unruly my eyebrows get. I love my laugh. I love the way my eyes light up when I'm doing something I'm passionate about. I love the way I care about people. I love how beautiful my soul is.
And above all, I love the way I have overcome myself with myself in order to love every flaw. I am me. And I love me.
illustration by Lizzie Suarez