On the morning of my fortieth birthday, I awoke, pulled the sheets from my body, took a deep breath, and made my way to the bathroom mirror. There, at that moment, I stood completely naked and looked myself in the eyes.

This isn’t something I often do. But on this day, I was determined to give myself a gift. Instead of my usual harsh and critical glance, I took in every muscle, wrinkle, roll, scar, and imperfection, with eyes of acceptance.

I didn’t wish for a return to my anorexic, angst-filled teenage years. I didn’t lament the ‘beauty’ that was wasted on my youth as though there was no value in the body before me. Nor did I want for the days when I sagged less, lost weight with ease, and had wrinkle-free flawless collagen-rich skin.

I thought about the years I’d struggled and fought for this little moment of freedom. My god, I’d fought hard. This body has known beauty and horror. It has hosted human life, birthed children, enjoyed ecstasy, and triumphed over cancer. But it has also endured sexual abuse, eating disorders, self-loathing, ass-grabs, cat-calls, and punishment for demanding desire on my terms. Continue…

Published by Jen Kinney

My name is Jen Kinney. I am a writer, podcaster, and anti-trafficking activist who loves to travel and live abroad. My twins and passion for social justice make me a great candidate for therapy. So I write. View all posts by Jen Kinney