74/365: Taking Strides
"If I ever have a daughter, I hope she loves her legs."
As a young girl, my legs were one of my biggest insecurities.
I hated how they jiggled when I walked.
I hated that they were constantly covered in bruises and speckled like a strawberry.
I hated the shape of my knees and the circumference of my thighs.
I hated how they looked in skinny jeans and how much larger they were from other girls' legs.
My brain fixated on the way my body appeared, rather than what my body had to offer.
Fast forward to now.
My legs have carried me across the stage at my college graduation. They've walked me down hospital hallways to be with friends in need. They bared my weight as I've knelt down to hug my nieces and nephews. There have been many hikes, dances, and strolls in the park thanks to them.
And I feel like that's what's truly beautiful here.
74/365: Taking Strides
"If I ever have a daughter, I hope she loves her legs."
As a young girl, my legs were one of my biggest insecurities.
I hated how they jiggled when I walked.
I hated that they were constantly covered in bruises and speckled like a strawberry.
I hated the shape of my knees and the circumference of my thighs.
I hated how they looked in skinny jeans and how much larger they were from other girls' legs.
My brain fixated on the way my body appeared, rather than what my body had to offer.
Fast forward to now.
My legs have carried me across the stage at my college graduation. They've walked me down hospital hallways to be with friends in need. They bared my weight as I've knelt down to hug my nieces and nephews. There have been many hikes, dances, and strolls in the park thanks to them.
And I feel like that's what's truly beautiful here.