Seriously, love your body!

It seems that not a single day passes by without hearing someone lament about their body.

I get it. We're all human. We all have flaws. And sometimes, we just don't particularly feel the love towards our flaws.

But love them. Just do it. You'll feel better for it.

I'll never be a tiny person. I'm cool with that. I wasn't tiny before I had two babies, so I didn't have any ideas of being small after I had them. And that's okay. I still adore my body.

Is my body perfect?

Hell no!

My thighs jiggle, I have cellulite on my ass, and there are stretch marks in places I didn't even know you could get stretch marks! My tummy is squishy and pudgy, my boobs hang down to my knees and are larger than a newborns head (this is not attractive). My hair is a crazy mess of frizz and longness down my back. Even J, who prefers long hair, asked me if I was going Pentecost because my hair hasn't been cut since Miss H was a baby. Oh, and those pimple that adults magically don't get. I do. It's like my face didn't realize I'm not still 13.

Do I love and adore all of these things? No, not particularly.

Could I change them all if I really wanted?

Sure, I could. With an extreme diet and exercise regime, and some laser therapy and plastic surgery, I could “fix” of all of it probably.

But I won't.

I wouldn't.

I mean, I like to eat. So I accept what that entails. I don't particularly enjoy leaving my children and going to the gym. So I accept that, too. And I have a lot of better things to spend my money on than plastic surgery.

And at the end of the day, my kids could care less what I look like and my husband still thinks I'm as beautiful as the day we met, so what else really matters?

So I embrace my flaws. I don't dwell on them. They are what they are. And they make up some pretty big parts of me.

And all together. They're awfully beautiful.

I am beautiful.

And you, my dear, are a damn rock star! So love your body. It's the only one you get.