On days that I feel ugly, when I get frustrated with my complexion, sigh at my hair’s refusal to cooperate, poke at the chub on my belly, frown at my plain brown eyes.
On these days I remember this:
I have grown up with this body. I know every bump and curve. Every mole and scar.
I am so used to my beauty that it seems like nothing special.
I remember that no one else’s face wrinkles the way mine does as I smile and laugh.
No one else’s hair falls exactly as mine does, framing my face.
My body curves in such a way that no one else can copy.
The eyes I see every day in the mirror shine in such a way they glow that no one else has ever seen before.
The time I have spent with my beauty does not diminish its wonder.