The clue is in the title for today’s writing prompt. A personal post I wasn’t sure how to write, or how personal to get with it! But here’s the attempt below. The above image is by Adina Voicu (free for use on Pixabay)

We’ve had good times when we danced all night, walked for miles across cities that made me feel alive and connected. Dressed up, grew up, threw up, got tired, felt alive, felt self-conscious, felt betrayed, felt loved, understood what we wanted, asked for what we wanted, dressed up for them… then for us, only for us, to feel good.

You taught me that the millions of ‘miracle’ cosmetics trying to sell magic are garbage. With me and you, it’s hormones and genetics, and some decades I’m lucky and we’re balanced and in harmony, and sometimes things go off kilter and I don’t like you, because it feels like you’re fighting against me.

These days sometimes we’re definitely not friends – you seem to enjoy showing me any indulgent meal or snacks I’ve eaten, like you’re lecturing me, even although I’ve just given you salad and other healthy stuff for breakfast and lunch. You used to accept that pay- off but now you like to add on every chocolate bar to another wobble in my ass, and I take you on longer walks to try and placate you. Don’t get me started on the mornings when I look in the mirror and see the work you’ve done on my face overnight, spots erupting from nowhere. Seriously, what are we, seventeen again? At least now, I’m more in tune with what’s going on and I know this week you’re going to mess with me, but by next week we should be on track again. Maybe.

This year you really did a number on me, on the run-up to a day where the whole world (or so it felt) was waiting to see how beautiful we might be. Giving me skin allergies where my eyes puffed up so bad I didn’t recognise myself in the mirror. When a doctor told me, not once, but twice (during a standard appointment) that I was overweight. And I looked at you objectively, critically, and the curves I’d accepted as something new, no longer looked so pretty.

But here’s what you’ve taught me – to be sure of myself, even when I’m really not. Sometimes it feels like I’m back being seventeen, but at least now, me and you, we’ve been through so much, and you’ve taught me my worth. It really is deeper than skin.

You take me where I need to go. We can still dance all night, and walk for miles across cities that make me feel alive.

And when I look at you I see all of the imperfections but I also see the power and the beauty of being me.