navigating insecurity

a tour of my corporeal landmarks and how I’m learning to love them

My body has its fair share of imperfections; small details that I hope are insignificant to others but are wholly patent to me. Over the years my insecurities have piled up, their weight threatening to drown me. Multiple men have told me that I am not conventionally attractive, that I’m not the sort of girl they’d typically go for. Ironically, these comments were only made after they had slept with me. I don’t wish to bore you with elucidations of my various defects - instead I wish to share some wisdom bestowed upon me as of late.

I was recently advised that if a person has something wrong with their appearance that they cannot fix within five minutes - you must not mention it at all. I believe that this piece of counsel, though rather simplistic, should be adopted into everyday life. If everyone were to live by this rule, no longer would I have to suffer every time someone mentions just how red my face is - as if I wasn’t already aware.

Another recommendation I can offer on this subject, is to imagine your body as a map. Which parts would be the famous landmarks, the most beloved locations? If my body were an island, the stretch marks on my thighs would act as the waves crashing against the coast. Crowds would gather by the cliffs to watch in awe at the cascading ripples which tear through my flesh. These thin lines against my skin signify my transition into womanhood and while some may believe them to be unappealing, I find beauty in their oscillation. The mole on my stomach perhaps would act as a tall mountain, soaring above the vast landscape and scratching against the sky. No longer do I view it as a blemish, a blight on my skin, instead I accept it as the replica of my mother’s mole and the reflection of my sister’s. My body is the product of those I love, my features a whisper of theirs, and if I love them so deeply then I can learn to love myself too.

It is often said that birthmarks indicate where a person was kissed the most in their past life. My birthmark, though small, lies in the crook of my waist. I imagine it as a wishing well, where lovers come to cast their hopes for the future. I shall grant this mark the same love and affection which it was afforded in my former existence. The second birthmark, I am still learning to love - for now, it is a hidden gem on the map’s design. If the map of my body had a heat signature, where would I have been touched the most? I know what the answer is likely to be but instead, I like to imagine the heat congregating around my shoulder blades; a symbol of the countless embraces I’ve experienced. 

My hope is that one day someone will learn this map by heart. That they will see the parts I’ve tried to hide, that their warmth will spread everywhere and not just linger over the most popular spots. I long for the day when I accept the map as perfect and hang it proudly for all to see. Until that day comes, I will continue to explore the locations I love, ignoring those which I cannot bear to look at, in the knowledge that the future must be brighter.