Oh baby girl.. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the shit you carry but I have to tell you that so much of that is crap. My sweet sweet girl. Don’t you know? The people that hurt you say things about themselves with their actions and you always thought it was you.
You think you’re ugly, less than, too much. You hate your body and you try to shrink. You want to be smaller, so small that you won’t bother anyone, so colorless that they don’t see. You don’t bother those that matter. You’re precious. Don’t you see it?
Your pale pale skin is alabaster, reflecting the moon off of your curve. You are firm to the touch and giving, warm, luscious. Your skin you wish was more golden, darker, better, oh it’s lovely. Men and women will lose themselves in your skin. The things you will do.
Your eyes aren’t pale. No. They reflect every single thing you feel and you need not feel chagrin at that. It’s not easy living so soulfully, feeling it all, but it’s a strength. Do you know how much easier it would be to just give up? Yes.. you have had your moments, but there isn’t a damn thing wrong with your feeling. You feel it all and it spills from your mouth and your hands, petting your lovers, showering them with kisses. Being loved by you is a singular pleasure, a feast for the senses. You are not too much. You are enough. You are whole. Your soulful eyes will take in the pain of others and soothe. You will get them like noone else got them. You’ll see them. Not everyone likes whole though. But that’s okay. Just stop listening to those that aren’t there yet. You aren’t wrong to love, even those you loved that didn’t deserve it. Maybe someday they get it. Maybe.
I know you think it’s you that they didn’t love. You mom’s back wasn’t the last back you saw, not by far, but it cut deepest. Why didn’t she love you enough to stay? How could she care so little for you, her biggest fan, her smallest pet? You thought she was so beautiful and you floated in her soft spoken voice and the way she smelled. She knew what dress to wear, what fork to use, how to wear jewelry. But she wouldn’t be there to teach you and you’d give up on that stuff.. think it was too good for you, the disheveled neighborhood raggamuffin biker’s daughter that you are. It’s going to be a long time until you know you are beautiful too. Shush. I hear that non-sense and it IS non-sense. You ARE beautiful.
She would make you always sense the room, constantly check the mood of those around you. You don’t know if she is going to dance with you or yell at you or smack your face red, almost as red as when she shames you. You laugh too loud for her. You talk too much for her. You are too much.
The hunger she put in you, the endless bottomless need for anyone to take notice of you, anyone to care. Oh baby girl you’ll spend decades on that one, but that is what it is. It will give you empathy. So at least there is that. You will touch so many souls with that equally bottomless love of yours. You want so badly to save the world. You are tenderhearted and always were. You picked the ugliest tree on the lot, and said it was the prettiest, swearing to your Dad that you love this absurdly barren misshapen stick of a thing. You were afraid it would know you were only getting it out of pity and you wanted it not to be lonely on Christmas morning and for it to feel good being your tree. You wanted someone to tell the tree it was beautiful and you knew it had to be you.
You don’t know it yet, but this is an amazing gift. You can see the good. You can ferret out strengths and silver-linings like nobody’s business. Oh girl. This will make you tenacious. And this tenacity.. this sticking in the pot, oh.. it’s going to take you places. You will accomplish things by sheer feat of will. You won’t be the shrinking ballerina that you wish to be, so delicate, so fragile, so light. No. You are tougher stuff. You are tempered steel my dear and yet so soft. It’s going to take a long time for you to see that this is just as it should be. You are stronger than you think, braver than you think, more resilient than you think. And this will eventually lead you to the love I wish for you. It will be your first tenuous reeds of loving yourself, loving your magic mind and will. You will feel the first glimmers of forgiveness for yourself when you help others. You’ll love yourself for turning all of this shit right now into something good. You’ll come to love the power of your body if not the shape. Your body will take longer for you to love.
It will jump from helicoptors and build houses and march for miles. It will grow and lose lives. It will suffer. It will work so hard. It will carry you. It will hold those who cry and soothe those who hurt and it will help you tell a story.. your hands flying.. all of you alive in the telling. People’s faces will alight at your stories my dear.
Oh honey.. my dear… the things your body will do. It will be used, sometimes by you. But your body is a topography of pleasure. Oh how you will taste. Oh the tasting you will do. You will dance people right up to release and push them over. You’ll get very good at this. You will suck and knead and writhe and plead and beg. You will cajole and grip tight and squeeeeeeeze. You will be a force with your capacity to give and take of pleasure. You will ride and buck and scream. Eventually you will let go enough and you will flood and roll over and over and over and over.. You will taste and bite and tease. Oh my dear. You will swallow it all.. you will swallow your lovers whole. You will know magic. Magic will touch you. They will let you play and you play and play and hopefully never stop. You will develop a quest for adventure.
Oh yes.. there are those that will try to hurt you for this. I’m sorry. They’ll punch you and dump you and call you names. He’ll ask you to get carried away while his roommate watches and then dump you for being a whore. She’ll break up with you on a post-it. You’ll find your house empty and your man with the woman who said she was your friend. Your lovers will leave in droves and you’ll leave too, sometimes just so they can’t. You’ll build walls and then learn to dismantle them. They’ll call you everything, maybe because women aren’t allowed to feel this passion or are supposed to lie, and my dear, you will be far too honest.
You will want. You will want so much. You will want love and understanding and passion and compassion and silliness. You won’t always get it, but you’ll learn to ask for it and to appreciate it when it comes. You will offer a precious few the world, and for the most part they’ll crush it. But maybe not always. There will be those that squander what you gave them. They’ll forget the love of years and years and they’ll crush it, and you. They’ll talk half truths and shit to a woman they barely know who’ll briefly replace you with, a woman who loved you once. And it won’t make sense. They’re cowards. You will survive anyway.
You’ll make amends and always strive to be better, making all of your many many many mistakes. But you will learn. Oh, my sweet, you will learn and learn and learn. You don’t know it yet, but you’re wonderful, exactly as you are. Hell yes you are flawed.. you are so flawed. You are imperfect and stupid sometimes too. But you are beautiful, so beautiful. I’m sorry it will take so long for you to see it.
So tell that voice to shut up. It lies and it steals life. Yes. Tell it you know the the lie even about your beautiful body. Love your hips my dear, your luscious
ass. Love your stomach too. Love your thighs and your crazy hair and your large hands. Love your breasts. They are wonderful just as they are. Their heft is plenty and oh how they will delight you and those that love them! For some reason you’ll think they’re wrong for years and you’ll be wrong about that too. They are perfect. They will learn to make you shudder and beg. They will taste sweet.
Love your glorious pussy too, so versatile, so able. Why the fuck did you ever think it looked too messy because it wasn’t all tucked so neat inside? Your messy pussy is a treasure. At least people can find your clit, so easy to suck. Eventually you’ll believe them when they say you’re delicious. If you had the faintest idea of the things your pussy could do, my pet. My little love. Just stop. Love your pussy.
Love your short neck and your freckles. Love you. Love your big laugh and your manly sneeze. Love your capacity to love. Love how you feel. Love the things you do. Love how hard you try. Yes. Even at long last love your body too. It is going to take a really really really long time, but you’ll get it eventually. Your pleasure, your gifts, your strength. You are beautiful. Beautiful. Yes I mean that word. You are beautiful.
I’m just gonna leave this here. Why does it feel so subversive. I think I just need practice.