as i dressed this morning, my gaze fell upon a flatter-than-usual stomach, and i stopped for a moment just to look. and as i wiggled my fleshy hips into a pair of pants that somehow fit looser than they have in days past, it occurred to me:
i belong to a generation of shrinking women.
we’ve been taught that something is beautiful only if doesn’t take up much space. and so we
for fear of being too much.
i never saw myself ending up this way, you see. i wanted life to be
joie de vivre bursting open the seams.
but maybe–it’s not actually about how much space we do or do not use.
maybe it’s instead more about what we do with the space we’ve been given.
maybe it all starts with choosing to simply honor the space in which we find ourselves,
even if it’s more,
or different than we’re accustomed to.
there’s an ebb and flow of life, you see,
and of all those hidden parts in the middle.
may we be women who own the space we are in,
every. single. inch of it.