A Love Letter

My dearest Body,
No love is perfect I suppose, I’d be lying if I suggested otherwise. On a bad day, I often obsess over the imperfections of our relationship. Skinny legs, scrawny arms and boobs that are so big they have their own gravitational pull. As I get dressed I suck it in, cover up and repress my true feelings under layers of men’s clothing as the school yard chants of ‘fat slut’ dance around my consciousness. I allow myself to be consumed by the voices that claim that I’m too ugly to ever be loved by anyone, even myself, wishing- no, praying to God to just fix these insecurities, so I would no longer have to be alone or ever inflict my hideous form on anyone else.

I want to apologise for those days I have been ashamed to take you out; those days when I look at you and wish for something else. We've been through so much together, our fates purposely intertwined from birth, to walk this earth for one reason or another. We've made it our mission to love limitlessly, to care for all, even those which others deem unworthy. Yet somehow, we've lost sight of what makes our love so special, that we too, are also worthy of this unconditional love. Over the years we've allowed the media to dictate the way our relationship should be and let society pick holes in our intimacy in a way our younger selves would have found unfathomable.

When I reevaluate our flaws through childlike eyes, a much more beautiful image begins to emerge and even those aspects of you I often scrutinise aren't without their charm – combine those legs and that ass with a pencil skirt and I can’t deny you look pretty fine, not forgetting the unquestionable usefulness of your ‘assets’ when fighting for a drink at the bar. You have always been there for me, through the scars of youthful misadventures to the piercings and tattoos of exploratory adulthood, carrying all with such grace and poise as if they've always belonged. Above all, those eyes, the window that connects me to you, will ever remain unrivalled and unchanged by the years. Together, we have become women, blossomed and developed in our gorgeous imperfections, forever here to support one another. That’s where your true beauty lies.

Love always, Your Soul

***

This is a piece I wrote for a competition to win a Pin-Up Girl photo shoot with a company called Shameless Photography. They announce the finalists in a few days, but winning isn't really my motive behind entering; I just loved the idea of having to write a love letter to my body. This isn't due to some self-indulgent, I-want-to-make-myself-feel-good motive, but because to I wanted to see if I could actually do it.

I've recently decided to dedicate the next six months or so of my life to building my character, working on my insecurities and becoming more of the person that I was created to be. Basically, I'm going to actively pursue and embrace my singledom, so I can concentrate my efforts into becoming the kind of person I'd want to date and not only that, but also the kind of person who could really bring out the best in my significant other. Just to clarify, I'm not completely consumed by the desire to get a boy/girlfriend. Actually it's the complete opposite. I'm terrified of the thought, due to a string of failed pursuits and being messed about over the past two years by people I would consider as good friends. I've allowed myself to repeatedly end up in situations where my self-esteem is beaten down, to the point where I found it difficult to love myself, let alone let anyone else in.

“Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My god, do you learn.”

—	C. S. Lewis

In the last few months my life and my perspective of myself have been totally changed around, and time and time again I've had to confront the 'demons' I've essentially created for myself through countless stupid decisions I've made. I can't say I regret any of them, because I've learned a lot and did, amongst all the crap, have some good experiences too. If you've been reading this blog over the past few months you'll have noticed my slight obsession with exploring identity and what makes me, me, as I feel that I managed to lose a lot of myself on what I originally thought was a journey of self discovery. How does that saying go? 'You have to lose yourself to find yourself', or something along those lines? It appears I've become a walking cliché.

If you hadn't guessed, my most recent challenge has been to love myself. I've been working on my relationship with my soul/personality/essence/whatever you want to call it for some time now, but when I saw the advert for this competition, I was reminded of how there's more to me than just the immaterial. My body, although temporary, is still a vital part to my being and my relationship to it is something that needs some serious healing. I think there's a real importance in loving the skin you're in, feeling sexy and confident that there is nothing wrong with the body that you have been blessed with. There's a huge difference between being narcissistic or vain and having a healthy relationship with your body. Pretty isn't gained by hours at the gym or self-inflicted starvation. What makes you beautiful is how comfortable you are within yourself. So dress in what makes you feel good, respect yourself and give your body the love and care it deserves. Write yourself a love letter if you fancy, because you deserve it. 



At a recent art exhibition I attended I saw a piece that explored those common human traits deemed 'flaws' by society - black heads, acne, unwanted facial hair and the like. In the description next to her work the photographer had written 'there is no body more perfect than the one you are in right now'. 

Street Kids

This morning I got up to an empty bedroom for the first time in weeks and felt that odd sense of freedom you get when travelling alone. Freedom to go where I want, do what I want, see what I want and of course the freedom to walk around starkers should I fancy it.

I took my time about getting ready, did an expert repack of my bag and perfected my previously shoddy henna skills. Not to shabby if I do say so myself!

For the first time in my life I was able to take a leisurely stroll to the station because I was SO EARLY and plonked myself down to wait for the bus. 

Within minutes I was bombarded by three street kids, all girls aged around 5, 6 and 11 years old. I'm ashamed to say I acted in the usual fashion, attempting to get rid of them as quickly as possible saying I had no money (which was genuinely true for once) however these three were rather persistent so after a little while I began chatting to them, in broken bits of English, Spanish, Portuguese, German and lots of mime.

They told me how they were sisters and slept around the back of the bus station. They had no parents and had to beg everyday for food. Most people ignored them, which was sad sometimes, but at least they were together. I showed them a picture of my sister and they told me how beautiful she is. I retorted that they haven't seen her as she'd just woken up and laughed in agreement, poking fun at each other. The conversation was not grave but amicable, with lots of smiles, giggles and asking me about my home, whilst trying on various bits of my jewellery.

Feeling touched by their presence, I gave them a present each of a ring and two bracelets of their choosing. Immediately after they ran away from me, fearful that I might retract my gift. Seeing my initial confusion, they cautiously returned before settling down to chat again. It saddened me a little that these beautiful young girls were wary to trust even someone who had been kind to them.

After a while they helped me find my bus and carry my bags (I confess I was a little worried about them running off, but I'd decided trust had got me this far, why not give it a chance?) The driver shunned the youngest as she went to check whether it was the right stop, but she simply shrugged and beckoned that I would have to do it.

Saying goodbye, I didn't really know what to do. We'd known each other only 30 minutes and yet I felt a strange connection to these girls. Leaving with just a 'see ya, have a nice life' seemed rather inadequate. Squeezing their shoulders and telling them how beautiful they are was barely an improvement, but with no parents to remind them I decided they deserved to hear it.

As I went to board the driver stopped me and demanded 2 bosnian-whatever-they're-called for my backpack. Having already paid for my ticket and spent the last of my pennies on paying for the hostel the night before, I was quite literally skint, but on telling the driver so he just shrugged and took my bag off the bus. I stood there, dumbstruck, at a loss of what to do. My new friends looked at me with understanding eyes, just as a kind norwegian gentleman jumped off the bus and paid for my bag as well as his own. I thanked him profusely, beaming at the girls who then proceeded to beg him for money - you can't teach an old dog and all that. I couldn't help but chuckle, climbing on the bus accompanied with a wave of airborne kisses and shouts of 'gruezi!'

Make of it what you will, but it's proved a rather thought provoking morning for me. I'm currently munching on a peach I acquired from that same kind stranger, who claims that England has given him so much during his travels there, he is simply paying a minute part of it back.