My hair is poofy.
I have bags under my eyes.
My teeth aren’t straight, there are chips in a few, and big, silver fillings from childhood cavities.
My shoulders are frail.
My nails are never done.
I have small boobs.
My stomach pouches out over my jeans if they’re too tight.
There’s some fat at the top of my thighs I’d like to suck out.
My knees are bumpy.
I’m bow legged.
My legs are never smooth.
My feet are long and flat.
That being said…
I love my poofy hair: It always keeps me guessing, its different from everyone else’s. It can hold a style, unlike most white girls hair, and I can get it wet and not worry about it, unlike a lot of black girl’s hair
I love my baggy eyes: There’s a wrinkle under my right eye that will never go away. I went to Sephora and asked for cream. I was told they weren’t wrinkles, they were lines embedded in my skin from the way I smile.
I love my teeth: I asked my dad for invisaline before and he told me “Nigrow, you need some ugly!” I was the only 11 year old I knew to get a root canal, and I felt like a soldier. I swallowed my silver cap in sixth grade and they eventually just pulled the tooth. Now there’s a gap but it sure is filled with memories.
I love my frail shoulders: They are the most delicate part of my body.
I love my un-manicured nails: I hate chipped nail polish more than anything and for that reason never paint my nails. I’m too low maintenance for constant manis. I like to remind myself of that.
I love my small boobs: More than anything. I think they are sexy. I like that I never had to worry if a guy was just talking to me because of a set of huge tits.
I love my pouchy stomach: I have defined abs when I make a muscle but can push out my belly to look like I’m pregnant. Take that for what it is.
I love that fat under my butt: Its what motivates me to go to the gym. I want to see it go away. Whether or not it ever does, it has kept me physically active.
I love my bumpy knees: They look like my dad’s knees. Skinny, African.
I love my bowed legs: My mom told me that her dad, who died before I was born, had bowed legs “you could drive a truck through”
I love my prickly legs: They ward off attackers because you will get cut if you touch them.
I love my feet: They have been a point of interest my entire life. Everyone makes comments about my long, skinny feet. My dad told me I should have been a swimmer, and that my feet turn the corner before I do. I stare at them sometimes and think ”….yeesh….“
Study yourself and see what you learn.