I grew up in my body,

Just like I would a house,

But never learned to love it,

The way I should.

 

So when I turned fourteen,

I didn’t like it at all,

I hated my toes to the roots of my hair.

 

When I was sixteen,

You told me every day,

How wonderfully beautiful I was.

 

I started to love myself,

But was all the more foolish,

Because of it.

 

Silly me,

Why did I only start to love my body,

When you said so?

 

You left,

And I realized,

I never needed you,

To tell me how beautiful I was,

Because I needed,

To figure that out,

All on my own.

 

I grew up in body,

The way you would a house,

And I love every bit of it,

Because to me,

It is perfect.