"Stop" he said, as I pulled my shirt down to cover my stomach. "Let me see!" He pleaded.
"No. It's disgusting. I'm embarassed."
He gently moved my hand away and whispered "Baby, stop saying that. You're beautiful."
Once again, he slowly begin to lift my shirt, exposing my belly.
Shame and disgust is what I felt as I laid there, tears running down my face.
His hands gently stroked my belly, as he looked at it. "You're so beautiful." He whispered. "Stop calling yourself ugly. I love your body. Those stretch marks are beautiful to me, because they remind me that you carried my children. My children grew in there and you're beautiful."
The tears came faster and harder. Here is this man, this wonderful, loving man, rubbing the body I hate. Looking at it, loving it. Why can't I just accept it for what it is?
I know he's being sincere, but I can't comprehend how he can find beauty in something so horrific.
I wish that I could see myself through his eyes. I wish that as he caressed my stomach and told me how much he loved me and how beautiful I am to him, that I could have closed my eyes, smiled and taken in the love that was being lavished on my body. Instead, I cringed in shame and I cried.
I don't want to cry about this body anymore. I want to accept it for what it has become and not long for it to look like it once did.
How do I do that? How is that possible when I am covered with stretch marks and fat and sagging skin? How can I ever look past that to see the beauty within? I try, I really do, because I'm sick of talking about myself in such a disgusting manner, but it's hard when I look in the mirror and see what I see.
I need to make peace with this, so that I can fully accept the love from my husband that he is so willing to give, I just don't know how to do it.
*(Campaign for REAL beauty. Thank God for this, and it's about damn time)







AWW Yvonne you are so beautiful! there is nothing wrong. I think everyone has stretch marks. I do!