I love my freckles...

A love letter to end body shaming

I love my freckles. They are not a childish imperfection. Rather a summer miracle. I greet them every year, lifting my face to the sun’s rays, encouraging them to blossom.

I love my eyebrows. I enjoy that they are low maintenance and have never conformed to confusing trends. I have no idea how to shape them, brush them, colour them, but I’m ok with that. I no longer think of that hurtful comment that I would be pretty if I just sorted my eyebrows out. I like to let them be free. And just a little bit bushy.

I love my chunky big toes that don’t fit well in heels but perfectly in wellies and walking boots. I love that they splay out slightly, just like my dads.

I love that my ears stick out. They provide the perfect holders to tuck my hair behind. They have been called mouse ears more than once. As there isn’t much in this world more adorable then mice, this can only be a compliment.

I love my strong thighs that ripple with cellulite with each footstep. They have taken me to the most beautiful nature spots, cosiest of book stores and reunited me with loved ones. What a privilege.

I love how my hair changes colour with the seasons. I relish its redness that I got from my mother and grandmother. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m able to carry a little of them with me. A joy that lifts me, even on questionable hair days.

I love that my small breasts means I can run, jump and, crucially, skip without the need for support. My lack of curves do not make me less feminine. They are suited for exactly what I need.

I love my wide hips that are able to carry books, boxes and small children (not all at once).

I love my bum, even when its gotten stuck in a clearly too small dress in multiple changing rooms. A gentle reminder to dress for the body I have, not the body I’ve been told I should have.

I love that my narrow wrists are too small for most bracelets, but flexible enough to hold intricate yoga poses.

I love my eyes that enable me to read tiny words even in dim light. I love that my peripheral vision has been honed to catch the flicker of movement, meaning I can quietly observe wildlife that others may miss.

I love my nose that means I can smell soft lavender, spicy gingerbread and salty seaweed.

I love my crooked smile. I relish that I’ve learnt to smile wider, even in the face of nasty comments. They will never stop me embracing joy.

I love my pale skin that is delicate enough to burn in what might seem like embarrassingly low temperatures. I embrace that, instead of tanning products, I spend money on books and tea. A decision I’ve never questioned.

I love finding new wrinkles. Whispered memories from when I’ve smiled, frowned, squinted, sobbed and laughed. Mementoes from a life well lived.

I love that I’m a woman. I am proud of this fact every day. How could I possibly feel anyway else?

I love that I wrote this love letter to myself. It is one that I will cherish forever.

All my love

Molly xx

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This post is written in defiance of body shaming.

To every person reading it, know that you are perfect and I hope your day is filled with joy.

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Slow Scottish Stories

Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple live in the Scottish Highlands.

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