Acceptance

I refused his desire for a picture of my face.

Unrelenting, he asked on.

I gave in, and felt too tired to fix my hair or find a nice angle.

I sent the picture,

immediately regreting the truth that lie in it.

I was disgusting.

It was simply the way my body just was.

I felt myself curl inward.

He replied,

“You look super adorable and wow, you truly look beautiful.”

I smiled, but forced my lips to once again

turn grim.

I texted back, “no you’re too kind.”

And that was it.

He carried on,

not willing to hear any sort of self-hate.

Told me why

my soul and my mind and my heart

and my thighs and my stomach and my arms

are all beautiful.

I don’t love the way I look,

but that night,

I took another glance at that picture I sent,

and thought,

hey,

maybe I am

pretty.