As a teenager, I would spend hours just admiring myself in the mirror—not my makeup or my clothing, my actual naked figure. I loved everything: my itty-bitty titties; my thick, milky thighs; my flat-enough tummy; my interesting nose with the ball on the end of it (shout-out to Sarah Michelle Gellar), and even my outie vagina,
It's sad to realise that the fact that she proclaims to love what she sees in a mirror makes me uncomfortable. It's like having a little itch on your neck. I have spent quite a bit of time coming to terms with the person that I am, but I'm comimg to the realisation that I have only worked to accept my intellectual and personality self. I still reject and allow other to direct influence my self-love for my body.
