All the lines of all the things that bind us during the day criss-cross from place to place on our bodies, creating a map of constriction. Those faint indentations in our skin. Beside them, in-between, and beneath are the marks of our lives. The stretch marks on our breasts and bellies and thighs that say we have been given birth and nourished our young. The bruises and callouses that say we have worked hard. The scars that say we have risked and challenged ourselves. The tattoos we have placed there to decorate and liberate.

Our bodies are beautiful canvases that are only clean in the womb. They begin taking on the imprints of our choices and experiences the moment we slip from our mothers. Every cut, hand print, gash, freckle, burn…everything we do to it – it retains the story of that moment.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badge

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Age Verification

By clicking enter, I certify that I am over the age of 18 and will comply with the above statement.

Enter

Or

Exit
Always enjoy responsibily.
%d bloggers like this: