An Open Letter to My Stretch Marks

Dear Stretch Marks,

I would be a wealthy young lady if I had a dollar for every time I looked at you and wished you had never appeared on my body. For most of my life, I remember hating you because you represented a fact I did not want to face–I was growing up, and thus, my body was changing in ways I didn’t understand.

You represented some of my darkest fears during my adolescence. You represented a body that was stretching too big for its own skin–ripping at the seams, like an overstuffed teddy bear. Yet, no matter how much hard-earned money I spent on creams, lotions, treatments, and ointments, you never left my body. Through thick and thin, literally, you remained put deeply embedded in my skin.

As I’ve matured and learned more about the body’s physiology, I have come to accept and understand that stretch marks are not a sign of imperfection. They are simply the skin’s response to the natural growth of the human body. Most people have them, and there is no shame in having a body decorated with these natural stripes. It makes me wonder why I even hated you, stretch marks, in the first place. Who taught me to hate my body?

Now as a young woman, I look at myself in the mirror and embrace the curves, the marks, and the scars that created the person I am. I know I am worth more than what others perceive me as. I am more than just a body to look at; I am a fully developed woman who loves who I am.

So I have just one thing to say to you, stretch marks.

Thank you for helping me learn to love myself.

Best regards and much love.