Hey YOU.

Hey YOU.

With the good hair. With the bad hair. With big hair, or short hair, or blue hair.

With the closet full of designer outfits, or the closet full of thrift store finds.

You, who likes to wear sequins and feathers, or you, who likes to wear leggings and flip-flops.

With those twenty pounds of baby weight you’ve been trying to lose.

Who keeps hearing you need to eat a burger because you are too skinny.

You, who is perfectly happy with whatever weight you are at.
You with the double chin, the triple chin. Or no chin. With a big nose, a nose job, eyes set too far apart, bushy eyebrows, thin lips, thick lips, penciled in lips.

So tall, people ask you if you play basketball. Or so short, people make fun of it all. the. time.

With the big boobs you paid for. Or were born with. With the tiny boobs you don’t need a bra for. With the push-up bras, the padded bras, the tummy tucks, the waist trainers, the Spanx.
With a face full of makeup. Painted on eyebrows, glued on lashes, plumped up lips.

You, who only wears Chapstick, and only when your lips are actually chapped.

You, wearer of a size 22 bathing suit. You, wearer of a size 2 bathing suit.

With skin so pale, you burn before you walk outside. With skin so dark, people tell you to smile so they can see you. And every skin color in between. Covered in freckles, birthmarks.

You, with the hairy arms, with alopecia. Covered in a Burka, walking around naked.

With Asian features, so everyone just assumes you’re Chinese, because ignorance.

With an afro, so everyone just assumes you’re loud, because ignorance.

Covered in tattoos, so everyone just assumes you’re a social misfit, because ignorance.

Without any tattoos, so everyone just assumes you’re boring, because ignorance.

With a straight face, so everyone just assumes you’re a bitch, because RBF.

You, who works out seven days a week, with people telling you, you don’t need to. You, who doesn’t work out, because you don’t want to.

With a big scar across your stomach from the car accident you survived.

With the bruises you got from someone you thought loved you, but doesn’t.

In the wheelchair you were born into. Without the legs you lost in a bombing.

With the stretch marks on your thighs, your boobs, your arms from giving birth to your kids, or yo-yoing weight, or just because genetics.

You, the right soul, born into the wrong body.

Blind, deaf, mute, fat, skinny, tall, short, old, young, big, thick, curvy, flat, black, white, brown, redheaded, blonde, bald, Asian, African, European, Latina, tatted, rainbow-haired, leggings-are-pants-wearer, head-scarved, glasses on, thick-rimmed, big-nosed, made-up, dressed-down, gay, straight, bi, trans, not sure.

YOU are fucking BEAUTIFUL.
YOU are a warrior. A badass mamma jamma.
Don’t let ANYONE dull your shine.

Do YOU, be YOU, love YOU.

Take a good long look in the mirror, and own your magnificence. Like the marvelous unicorn you are.
Then go out, and walk tall, head up high, fierce AF.

Because ALL women are goddamn QUEENS.




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