Mental Health · Positivity

Cuticle Cream

Did you know there is such thing as cuticle cream? I didn’t. It was a gift, like the one I received from the universe when I began to be there for myself.

My hands? I never liked them. I never knew I didn’t like them. Much like my arms, body, face; they were bigger, hairier, fatter, wider.

But my hands allow me to type and write my heart out. To hold the hands of the ones I love.

But my arms are beautiful; freckles, hair, birthmarks, and all. They allow me to embrace others, hold my belongings, care for myself. They lift me up when I’m down. They pull me where I need to go.

My mom used to say I was bigger boned. That’s why I shopped in the teen section when I was still a child. Girls say size 6, I haven’t been a size 6 since I was 8. Bigger bones she said. Bones that support my goals and strides. Bones that don’t break from words and rejection.

My face may be wide, but my face is full. It’s full of smiles and tears and frowns and cheers. My cheeks rise up to convey my happiness. My face is wide with more room for smile.

I didn’t know about cuticle cream. I didn’t know how to love my hands, my arms, my big bones, or face. I’m learning.




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