There was a time when I measured my worth in other people’s eyes.
Every glance felt like judgment. Every whisper felt like it was about me. I learned early that love came with conditions, and beauty was one of them. Growing up, I was taught, explicitly and painfully, that being anything less than “pretty” or ”perfect” meant being less than worthy.
If I was overweight, I was ugly. If I was ugly, I was nothing.
That belief didn’t just live in my head, it was handed to me. When I got sick as a teenager and my body changed in ways I couldn’t control, I didn’t just lose my sense of self. I lost the version of me that was “acceptable.” I gained weight because my body was fighting for me, but all anyone seemed to see was that I no longer fit the mold.
And my Bio father? He made it clear.
He told me that when I was “pretty again,” he’d put my pictures back on the wall. He told me women only make it in this world two ways, by being pretty or by being smart, so I’d better get a degree. He made me run miles while he chased me on a bike. I had to wear sweat suits under all of my clothes at all times. Imagine being told, so plainly, that your value is conditional. That your body determines your worth. That love can be taken down like a photograph and tucked away until you’re “good enough” again. For a long time, I carried that with me. I shrank. I hid. I tried to earn approval that was never freely given.
But not anymore!
Fuck that. Fuck him. And fuck anyone who thinks they get to decide my worth. I am not America’s next top model. I am not airbrushed or flawless. I have wrinkles. I have scars. I have stretch marks. I am overweight. And I am perfectly imperfect. I am proud of who I am. I am proud of my submission, my surrender, my truth. I am confident in my skin, not because it meets some arbitrary standard, but because it is mine. I stopped chasing approval the moment I realized it was never mine to earn in the first place. If someone doesn’t like how I look? If someone doesn’t like who I am? That’s not my business. I have one life. One body. One chance to exist as fully and as freely as I can. And I refuse to waste it trying to fit into someone else’s expectations.
So I walk differently now.
With a skip in my step. With fire in my chest. With no fucking regrets. I glow as I go. Not because the world told me I shine, but because I decided I do. And to anyone out there still battling those quiet, gnawing insecurities. Look at your flaws. Really look at them. And then understand this, There is no one else in this world exactly like you. Not one.
You are a rare, priceless soul. Not in spite of your differences, but because of them.
So stop dimming yourself. Stop waiting for permission. Strut in the knowledge of who you are. Live bright. Live loud. And sparkle like you were always meant to. Because you definitely do.