A Letter to My Stretch Marks

Dear Stretch Marks,

I am sorry
When I saw you appear like cobwebs on my hips, stomach, and breasts
I thought of how I didn't care for horror movies that much and I especially disliked you
I swore off wearing those short tops even with the high waisted jeans
Because what if that guy I-sorta-kinda-maybe-like somehow sees you
What if he points while his friends laugh
I'd go home and cut deep into you
Hoping that these man-made scars will take away this godly-gift
I am sorry I once mistook your beauty for anything less than powerful lightning bolts giving me strength
Strength to realize that any guy that laughs at something as beautiful as the rose vines that frame my body will not make me or any woman happy
So now here I am in my short top and high waisted jeans, thinking about how much I love the way you paint my body like a canvas
And how much I really do like horror movies

Love,

Your Canvas