My body tells the story

When I decided to do the juice diet I was hoping to loose a couple inches around and just feel better all around. I didn't loose any weight, but I did feel better. I came to the conclusion that this is me. I have been lucky not to have a huge battle with weight like many other people have. But I have had a hard time with my body image.

I have BEAUTIFUL sisters!! They are all thin and have great hair and beautiful skin.

They work out and take care of their bodies, I know they work at it.... {except the hair... that is all natural} but I feel like it doesn't matter how hard I try all I am left with.... me.

The biggest thing that this juice diet did for me was to help me feel better in my own skin. I am a great person and am so lucky to have a working body. I feel like I am in a place that I can look, really look at my body and be happy to be me.

I am learning to love my body. This wonderful creation that was given to me by my Heavenly Father. I am created in His image and blessed to be so healthy and to be able to know that I am Daughter of God.

The marks on my body tell a story. One of love and of heartache, joy and sadness, and happiness and the feeling of being utterly alone. It points to the big moments in my life and to the let downs that have come as well.

They tell of the times that I have been bless to be pregnant, with the joy of birth and the loss of never knowing the soul that I carried. My body has born four new people and with each one new marks have come as my body has been pushed and pulled to make way for them. Twice I was cut open to have a baby in my arms leaving me with both a wonderful smelling boy, and a huge scar that may never fade away.

I have marks and scars on my face. I have often been embarrassed about this, and sometimes I still am. These marks tell a story of an adolescent girl that made it out of high school. I was never popular, and I feel like it was because while the other girls could face each day with fresh skin I would hide behind others, wanting to stand out, but not wanting to be looked at.

Now as I get older I have new marks on my face, wrinkles. And while I wish I didn't have any, they too tell a story. A story of the miles that I have crossed, taking my family from one side of the US to the other. The story of hugging my dear husband and watching him board planes to war torn countries. The story of sleepless night soothing upset tummies, and rocking babies, and singing quietly to a scared boy promising the bad dreams will go away.

I have scars on my body from falls as a kid that left me bruised and cut open with blood dripping down. Most of the time there was a lesson that was learned from it, sometimes that's just life. You join the ride knowing that you may get marked up but knowing that what you learn from it will be worth it in the end.

I was teased for the way my body was. I was tease for what I looked like. For years I wanted to change what I looked like. I wanted so desperately to feel comfortable. I wanted what I thought everyone else had. Even into my adulthood, there have been times that I have thought 'if I could just change this one thing then everything would be better'.

Then a little one will peer into my soul with the same eyes that I have.

Someone will want me to smell flowers with him... with the same nose that I have

Give me kisses with the same shape mouth that I have.

I am so thankful that I have a husband who loves me just the way I am, but I was finding that it wasn't enough. If I can't love myself how can anyone else. If I can't see past the marks that are on my body, how can anyone else.

I am strong.

I am beautiful.

I am me.

I am my body.