Love Myself

I wish I could love myself.
I wish I could love my eyes.
I wish I could love my hair,
I wish I could love the millions of freckles on my arms,
sprinkled like sugar from when I was four.
I wish I could love my hands,
I wish I could love my fingers,
and oh, how I wish I could love my nails.
I wish I could love my stomach,
my thighs,
my feet,
but I'm learning.
I'm learning to love my chub.
I'm learning to love my baby fingers.
I'm learning to love my thighs
and my eyes
and I'm learning to love the hair on my head and my legs and my arms with the sugar on top.
I'm learning that yes,
I'm not all that people say I am.
But I am me.
I am allowed to love me.
I am allowed to obsess over my flaws.
I am allowed to tell myself the roll on my stomach is normal.
I am allowed to tell myself that the stretch marks on my waist and my tits are pretty.
I am allowed to think that my ass looks good in a pair of jeans,
not for the boys and not for the girls
but for me.
I am allowed to love my calves for making my legs look amazing.
I am allowed to love the shape of my perfectly round eyes.
I am allowed to love the hips that I feel sway side to side when I walk.
I am allowed to think that my chubby, curvy body is sexy,
and dammit, it is,
because I get one body in a lifetime,
so I'd better get used to it.
I am allowed to think that I am perfect. 
I am allowed to love myself.