I’m Not for Everyone. That’s Okay.

I used to think I needed to be liked. Craved it, honestly. No matter what, people had to like me. I mean, how could they not? I’m a delight. (Okay, that’s sarcasm. The truth? I had very low self-esteem.)

I felt too fat, too gay, too expressive. Always too much, and somehow not enough at the same time.

From a young age, we were taught beauty meant being ripped, eating kale like it’s a religion, and hitting the gym six days a week. I didn’t fit that script. I hated my body so much I wouldn’t even take my shirt off at the pool.

But then… something shifted. I saw that plenty of people actually find bodies like mine attractive. Desired, even. And I thought: What am I hating myself for? I may not be a Greek God of Bears, but I’m sure as hell more attractive than the zero credit I was giving myself.

Here’s the bigger truth: I used to twist myself into knots just to be liked. Smiling, shrinking, bending until I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. I wasn’t me. I was a collage of what other people wanted me to be.

And I hated that.

So I made a promise: I will not abandon myself to be liked. I will not edit myself to be palatable. I’m big, I’m bold, I wear my heart on my sleeve. You can love it or leave it.

Because if you don’t like me? Honestly, fair. I didn’t always like myself either. But I do now. And that’s the difference.

Too much? Good. I’ll never be snack-sized.