17 year old me hated having her picture taken.
I remember one of my family members took a candid photo of me while we were at the beach and I was so horrified by it that I laid in bed that night, SOBBING over it, resolving that I would go on a diet first thing in the morning. I only used to feel good about myself when I was dieting because I was raised to believe I would only be worth loving if I was trying to become skinny.
But yesterday, after climbing up onto a big slab of concrete in an alleyway, directly adjacent to one of the busiest streets in town and having people turn a full 90 degrees in their seats, gawking at me as they drove past, to pose as my husband took photos of me, I realized how far I’ve come. I’m not gonna lie, I still feel vulnerable in those moments because I’m always prepared to see the pictures afterwards and feel the way I did that day at the beach. But somehow yesterday I managed to lay down (AKA my most unflattering pose) and actually get a shot that I loved and made me feel beautiful. Something my teenage self would have never even DREAMT of doing.
I guess what I’m trying to get across is that, A. Loving yourself doesn’t happen overnight. After a lifetime of being told that you’re nothing, it’s going to take some time to feel like you’re something. And B. Do the things that scare you because you have to fall before you can fly.