For years I would sit and wish I had stretch marks, like other's from being pregnant my 4 children.
But my tummy was far to bloated, large and round to see them.
It had made its own form of botox, filling in the lines, hiding them from me.
Now I know many woman HATE them...hate the colour, the feel and how unattractive they make them feel and look.
Hate how they cant wear a short top because their ugliness is visible to the world for all to see.
I remember going to a friends house when I was 13 and being utterly fascinated at my friends mum.
Here she was, a slender woman, short shorts on and a top tied under her breasts with her tummy bare, revealing her mass of stretch marks.
I remember thinking how beautiful she was, being comfortable with how she looked and even now I'm seeing her with a glow about her.
I often reflect back to the confidence she held, the grace she held for her self.
It may just have been one of the most beautiful things I saw as a teenager growing up.
Not one word did she say to me but the positive influence she had on me that day was something that I have never forgotten, even when I had so many self destructing influences about me at the time.
I held onto it.
Over the last year Ive noticed alot of changes in me.
The large roll of fat on both my inner thigh's is now in line with my leg's.
My gunt as much as it frustrates me, is slowly shrinking and clapping less
today while getting out of the shower
I stopped and caught a glimpse of myself as the sun shone in through the window to
highlighted parts of me.
Touching them I smile.
They feel smooth, pure and silky almost.
I let my fingers follow them and feel a warmth in my heart.
Its like Ive discovered another part of myself again.
Another trail, path in the woods of my tangled life has opened up.
Just when I think I cant find anything else to discover or learn from myself
Something from the blue, like my new stretch marks come and explode happiness into my veins.
Happy Easter to me