V422005 - my girlfriend has a big soft round belly, and large sagging breasts, and probably cellulite too, but I haven't looked or noticed.
And I think she's beautiful.
I have no interest in a supermodel. Honestly.
And I, I have a big round belly too, and large sagging breasts, and I KNOW I have cellulite, and scars and strech marks all over my body. I have literally several feet of scars all over from various surgeries, accidents and mishaps...the longest is 19.5 inches long and up to an inch wide in spots.
But you know what? I think I'm beautiful too. I think I'm beautiful because I think I'm a good person. I believe that I have inner beauty, and I believe it shines through.
I believe my large size is evidence of a generous nature and a thousand years of my ancestresses working hard. (Not all my size is flab, I am also very thickly muscled, but it all LOOKS like flab, LOL) My wiggly jiggly arms fit perfectly around someone who needs a hug, and my shoulders are wonderfully padded for crying or leaning on.
My scars and stretch marks are evidence of my strength in the face of adversity, evidence of a life that was actually LIVED. I'm about to turn 30, and I'm starting to show some wrinkles around my eyes, and I'm adding those in to my list of assets. My wrinkles will show the world that I smile more than I frown.
I have a big gap in my front teeth that I used to get teased about constantly. Now I like it. It gives my face character, it makes me different and unique, and it makes my smile memorable. As a kid I rarely smiled with my teeth showing, now I flash toothy grins everywhere, and you know what? They're contagious. People smile back. So that too, is part of my beauty.
I like my nose, even though it's tiny and kind of a "stub nose". I like it because it's funny, and I can smash it flat without hurting it, because I have very little cartilage in it. It's a fun party trick, and a fun way to make a couple bucks on bets. LOL
I like my lips because of the effect they can have on my loved ones when I touch them with them.
I like my eyes, because when I smile my big toothy grin, I'm told they sparkle.
I like my hair...it's long and straight and turquoise blue. Tomorrow it might be green, or red, or purple.
I like my skin, because it always heals. I've been poked, prodded, sliced open, tattooed, pierced, torn up, scraped up and you-name-it, and yet my skin always miraculously heals, sometimes leaving a scar behind as evidence, sometimes not.
I like my feet, even though they look a little funny. They're short and wide and hard to find shoes to fit, and calloused from spending 99% of my time barefoot. But without my feet I would never know the earthy joys of squishing my toes into mud.
I even like my bad hip and back, even though they cause me pain on a daily, chronic basis. They have taught me humility, and empathy, and that sometimes going slow opens more opportunities than going fast.
But most of all, I like my hands. They can be hard and powerful when I need to work, or soft and gentle when I'm cradling a baby. They can express my emotions, and sometimes they even can produce artwork.