Screen Protector

This is my phone's screen protector.

It did its job, I suppose.

My phone is fine.

My screen protector, not so much.

This is my third one to end up looking like this.

I guess the extra money I spend for screen protectors really is worth it.

Thanks, T-Mobile.

The last couple of weeks have been hard.

HARD.

It turns out, my body (tummy and skin) are not fans of dairy.

When someone (that someone is me) is an ice cream fanatic, that's an issue.

It turns out my body isn't just angry about dairy, but possibly peanut butter and other things too.

I am finding out one-by-one and purging things from my diet.

In the meantime, in between time, my skin is a wreck.

Like, I am self-conscious to show my face anywhere right now.

I look like I got attacked by a hive of angry bees.

And it hurts.

My whole face hurts.

Bad.

Also, my tummy is so bloated (like straight up swollen).

I'm a mess!!

Kind of like this screen protector.

I have spent many days crying because of how my body is currently looking and feeling.

This morning, I flipped the darn switch.

While in the shower, I shouted:

I love my skin.

I love that my skin protects my internal organs.

I love my tummy.

I love that my body grew four humans.

I love my hair (which I currently want to shave off because I'm trying to grow it out).

I love my big hips.

I love that they spread and allowed four humans to grow safely.

I love my cellulite.

It means I've lived.

I love my scars.

I love my freckles.

I love the left side of my body.

There is something about speaking validation into the universe for ourselves that adjusts our entire mindset.

Now, it doesn't just stick after doing it one time.

So, I'm saying it to myself every time I go to the toilet and look in the mirror.