I don't have a thigh gap.
In fact, my thighs triple in size when I sit down.
I can sit a hen on each one, as I feed and flatter them. They find no fault in their size, and they make my heart happy.
My breasts are no longer as high and firm as they once were.
When they are unbound they don't have the shape of the breasts you see in magazines.
They can offer your head a place to rest though. A comforting home to relax, and unburden yourself from the harsh world. They are unjudging in their comfort.
My stomach still protrudes from the rest of my body.
It is marked harshly by the war I have been waging against it my entire life.
Each loathed mark shows me how harsh I've been to my body, and reminds me how important it is to be kind to myself. It reminds me how far I've come, and how far I still have to go.
My heart is a shattered, poorly reconstructed mess.
It has been treated carelessly by so many.
It can still love you with a fierceness that will take your breath away...if it is made to feel safe. Every beat of it is passionately loyal...sometimes to a fault.
I am a mass of imperfections...
None of which make me unworthy of anyone's love and admiration...
Most especially my own.