Ode to arms

I’m my worst critic… but aren’t we all? I am the first person to jump on my imperfections and criticize myself. For one I can say with certainty that I never liked my arms. Besides the fact my ex called them man arms they are also full of scars. Scars from being whipped with a rod or hanger or fists of fury.

Letting go of negative self-talk is hard but with practice is very rewarding. It is so awesome to wear a tank and not give a dam about what people think about my arms. I have also begun to notice as I let go little by little my scars fade. Some of them are barely noticeable anymore unless you look at them from a certain angle in the right light.

It has only been in the past year or two that I began to appreciate them bat wings and all! I mean look what they can do?


My arms can carry my weight. At 34 years old they can still support a handstand and I love them for that. They also give awesome hugs, support my hands that write my papers, do my work, and talk like an Italian!

I love my arms ❤

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