Many years have passed. My body has changed. It has become softer, slower in places, tired of diets and ideals imposed from the outside. But along with this came something that was missing in my twenties: respect.

I suddenly realized that my body is not my enemy. It has not deceived me. It is my home. It carries me through life, even when I am unfair to it. It does not have to be beautiful according to a standard to be loved. It is mine. With its curves, with its scars, with its history.

Love for the body began not with a diet, but with care. From the moment I stopped punishing myself for eating a bun. From that morning when I put on a dress not “because it makes me look slimmer,” but because I just like it. From the day when I chose the mirror to smile at myself, and not to judge.

Now I go to the gym because I want to be strong, and not “thinner for the summer.” I apply cream not out of fear of getting old, but out of a desire to be gentle with myself. I eat it because I love the taste, not because I deserve it.

And you know what's most amazing? As soon as I stopped fighting with my body, it stopped seeming "imperfect." It became my own.

If you are currently in a difficult relationship with yourself, try to say thank you to your body. Not for its appearance. But for the fact that it is with you. Every day. No matter what.

With warmth,
Marina