Today, I take myself as is.  Jiggly butt, cellulite, leaky, hurty boobs.  Unbrushed teeth.  Stained t-shirt.  Dirty house.  No job.  I’m not gonna wait to love myself until I’m cleared to exercise in the same way that I’m not gonna wait to love my son until his baby acne clears up and he quits screaming bloody murder when he hasn’t fed for a whopping two hours.

I realize as I soothe him, tell him how much I love him, that “mamas right here”, I am also talking to myself.  As I accept my son’s right to take up space, feel hungry, cold, wet, bored or angry, I accept my right to do the same.