Dear body,
I’m sorry I was that person in high school who pretended to be your friend but left after things got ugly.
I’m sorry for a lot of things.
Dear body, I grew into you and never stopped, or at least that’s the nice way of putting things. At least that’s gentler.
I started wearing makeup so that people would stop looking at you, but it only made them look more. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that I loved you like something to be sorry for. When the strangers all stared at you, and when Josh would scream “Fat girl!” at you from across the street until he decided that you were pretty enough to be left alone, I pretended not to know you. My back has a curve from where I would try to hide from you, and it is the only mistake I’ll never be able to take back because it has bloomed into a mountain, into a punchline that my sisters like to imitate from time to time, and we both laugh at it because there’s nothing else to do.
Dear body,
you are still growing crooked, and I want you to know that it’s okay. I am still trying to find any possible way to make you into something beautiful, but all I can come up with are distractions and flattering mirrors.
For every time I didn’t stick up for you. For every time someone has been kind to you and you felt like you didn’t deserve it, just know that I wish the love I had for you was braver. Just know that I wish I had courage that didn’t make me tired.
I’m sorry about all the falls you’ve taken, all the bruises you’ve worn in the name of being invisible. I’m sorry about the torch you’ll always carry for the first person who ever saw inside of you and wanted to stay. I’m sorry about all the boys who will never, ever look at you like the magic that you are.
Dear body, I’m sorry that you cringe when people tell you that you are more than enough. I’m sorry that you used to prefer hearing that you were nothing, but we are older now, and still imperfect, and still huge and soft and glowing. We have learned about the bravery of climbing towards the sun, even if we are sweating and out of breath while doing it, like those cartoons we used to cry watching. I need you to know that I’m still scared, that there are still places that I can’t take you, and my left shoulder will always remember how it felt when it broke itself on the ground, but I love you better now. I will always love you better, so here it is again. You are more than enough, and that’s okay. You are more than enough, and you are allowed to be.
—  Caitlyn Siehl, Dear Body

"How’s your head?"

Again, I feel like this is another moment when you can clearly see how self conscious and uncomfortable Anna feels about herself. I mean look at her.

When she tries to care for him, she messes up and hurts him instead. That’s probably what happens to her every day. That’s probably what she thinks happened between her and Elsa. So when she hurts him, she’s scared. She’s scared that he’s going to yell at her for hurting him, or just give up on her, like so many people have probably done.

But he doesn’t.

He says it’s okay, and that she doesn’t have to worry. That he has a thick skull and that it’s not her fault. And her face softens up and smiles…

Because even after dragging him in this adventure, making him jumping off a cliff and almost killing him with fire, he’s still here.

4

Hans vs Kristoff: First meeting with Anna.

I really like this comparison because even though it might not look like much, there is a very important difference. Both meeting are awkward, but not the same kind of awkward.

Hans: Hans’ meeting with Anna is pretty awkward. She falls on him he falls on her she babbles too much etc… Pretty awkward if you ask me. But in a way it’s still very romantic and cliché. You see it’s awkward but endearing at the same time. It’s awkward, she falls onto him and then they fall in love. It kind of plays with your emotions. Wow that’s cute, that’s adorable. It’s awkward, but I don’t know a lot of people who meet someone in that particular way.

Kristoff: The difference with Kristoff’s meeting with Anna is that it’s genuinely awkward. And not over dramatically, not cute, not trying to play with your emotions, not even hinting that they are meant to be. Just a genuinely weird, awkward way of meeting someone. And it’s relatable. We have all encountered that rude person. We’ve all blabbered in front of someone who was asking you to move. It’s real.

And that’s the difference between the meetings. Hans’ is romantic. It’s sweet and endearing. But Kristoff’s is more awkward, more relatable, more real.

It shows us that true love doesn’t need a romantic meeting, and it could actually come out of anywhere.

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