confidence

‘I wouldn’t let my husband touch them. I wanted pretty boobies, whatever that meant. I was ‘large’ and gravity became my enemy.’: Woman urges ‘do what you need to in this life’ after breast augmentation

“I’ve always hated my breasts, ever since high school. I couldn’t wear the cute sundresses like my girlfriends. I couldn’t wear sexy lingerie or bikinis…they just sagged. Yeah, I said it…sagged. I made a decision back in November that I wanted to get a boob job. I wanted ‘pretty’ boobies, whatever that meant.”

‘Maybe her shorts are too short, her jeans too tight. Maybe you think her dress is too revealing. What you don’t see is a woman falling apart.’: Woman urges ‘we are all just trying to do our best’

“You deem her unworthy before she even has the chance to speak for herself. She’s not a woman who finally found the courage to be who she is, dress how she wants, stand up for what she believes in. Trying not to let the coldness and cruelty of this world break her. Instead, she gets labeled. Simply because she just exists.”

‘Sexy is a 20-minute bath while Daddy watches the baby. Sexy is lifting up other women and never being too smart to learn something new.’: Woman challenges definition of ‘sexy’

“I’m tired of girls being led to believe they’ve got to pucker their lips, stick out their butt, flash some cleavage, and put seven filters on their face to feel cute. Sexy is working hard and understanding your strength. It’s understanding the world doesn’t revolve around you. It’s accepting your weaknesses and asking for help.⁣ Don’t limit yourself to six pack abs and booty bands.⁣”

‘I was typing on a friend’s Facebook, ‘You’re so P-R-E-T…’ when I realized I was part of the problem. When did ‘pretty’ become the best compliment I could give?’: Woman urges ‘remind your friend she’s bold, brave, and inspiring’

“At one point, we were little girls dreaming of the day when we would be smart, successful, bold, brave, and strong. We would become doctors and lawyers and presidents. Then, the world told us what really matters most for girls: how we look.”

‘I’m tired or vibrant. I’m drinking water or in the drive-thru with a Coke. I wake with the sun and get everything done or I’m coasting till bedtime.’: Woman admits ‘I often wake up wondering which side of the line I’ll fall on today’

“I’m either an hour into the elliptical or I’m halfway through a bag of Doritos. I’m either a mom with a bath/book/bedtime routine, or a mom locked in the bathroom hoping they’ll soon fall asleep. I’m always thinking of all the good things, or sometimes it’s just pure worry. I often wake up wondering which side of the line I’ll fall on today.”

‘He’s a different kind of boy. He watches musicals, not football. He’s a rule follower, almost to a fault. He’s not ‘boy’ enough for the boys, and not ‘girl’ enough for the girls.’: Mom’s plea to teach kindness to our kids, ‘All differences should be valued’

“He is sensitive and shy. The misbehavior associated with ‘boys being boys’ does not apply to him. He finishes library books in 2 days and eats his lunch in order of healthiest to least healthy. His punctuality is constant and profound. Yet another day he came home, reduced to tears after no one wanted to be in a group with him during gym class. Another day he bows his head, in fear he will be mocked.”

‘Smoking when you have cancer? Are you insane? You might as well jump in front of a train!’ My first time going outside as a baldie was horrible.’: Woman with alopecia advocates for hair loss, ‘I am beautiful, with or without hair’

“I was known for my beautiful hair. It was one of my biggest ‘selling points.’ One day, I woke up and my hair started to fall out. ‘When you are almost bald, please come back and we will look at it again.’ Five days later, I was back. I went from having really beautiful hair to being a baldie with a wig.”

‘It was pizza day in school. ‘Your face looks like a pepperoni.’ My friend got up and slapped the guy.’: Woman born with port wine stain learns to embrace her beauty, ‘I needed to be myself’

“I was born with a big Port Wine Stain, covering half of my face. They would only laser a small part of my birthmark at a time because it was so painful. My mom recalls ‘the smell of burned skin getting in her nose.’ As I got older, I felt people staring more. Adults would stop in the middle of the sidewalk. ‘Wow.’ Kids would point. ‘Look at that.’ Imagine a little girl asking a grown woman, ‘Can I help you?’ That was me growing up.”

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