Learning To Love Myself, All Over Again...

Throughout my thirty years on this earth, I have evolved into a fairly self aware being.

I know my many good qualities, and in return, I know all my faults.

Like all of us, I am a flawed being and, like all of us, my flaws are each a little piece of who I am.

The countless scars on my legs - tell stories from my childhood, my stupid teen years and some drunken mistakes.

My commanding voice- the result of being the baby in a loud, greek family.

My tall stature- forcing me to hold my head high, even through the most difficult of times.

The gap in my teeth - the one that came back years after my braces came off.

The stretch marks on my body- my tiger stripes, which I earned after growing my beautiful baby inside of me.

My stomach - the constant struggle, and probably my biggest insecurity- I fucking hate my stomach.

I am aware of my flaws, and to be honest, I got to a point where I thought I had accepted them. I got to a point where I was comfortable with my body, I still had my insecurities but I wasn't insecure.

I wish I could say that my self-love journey post-baby was this inspiring and magical awakening but the reality is, having my daughter severed open wounds I thought I had healed long ago.

Growing up, I used to look at magazines and ache at the fact that I did not resemble the girls on the cover. I realized at a young age that I was not considered "beautiful" in the eyes of our society.

It took me years to feel comfortable in my skin. But I eventually did, and it was pretty great.

Over the last year, that familiar feeling of self-loathing has began to creep up on me again. And to be honest, I am mad at myself that I am back here- mentally and physically.

I know that the beauty standards are evolving, but years of programming has had some damaging affects on my psyche.

My greatest fear is that my daughter will know that version of me and that I will project those insecurities onto her.

My daughter is pure and innocent, she is the definition of sunshine and she deserves to love herself fully and wholeheartedly.

I never want her to feel out of place in her skin, I never want her to know what it is like to hate her body.

I want her to grow up feeling grateful for all the good her body does for her, rather than focusing on what it looks like.

I want her to understand that every single body is beautiful. I want her to be free of those insecurities that have held me back my entire life.

The tricky thing is, that in order for my daughter to love herself, she must see her mother doing the same. Children learn from example and I am her example.

I know I should love myself for me, but I am learning to love myself for her and that's a good enough reason.