Dear husband: An open letter about body image.

​Dear husband,

Please kiss me in the places I hate most.

I need that.

It is true my body is a transformer.

But my sexiness and my giggle are an endangered species.

I am supposed to love myself, adore my body, and be in charge of my own sexy.

But truth be told, you helped pave the way for my raw, erotic tigress. You unlocked her cage. And when you were not looking, I slipped the key in your pocket.

Maybe you know it or maybe you have yet to learn.

I feel most loved when you wrap your arms around me.

I feel most seen when we bare it all, just to roam around our room and do mindless chores.

Your heart is my home. And my body is mine, but it is also for you.

It is our garden to water and gaze at together.

I have blossomed up babies for our family. We grow our love, so far in 3. My babies are our babies, because my body grew all 3. And it does not matter what seeds were planted. In a blended family, all who blossom are loved.

​My body is the place where I dwell.

Sometimes in sunshine and sometimes in clouds.

Each year, the crops might be different. I might change my curves or my expression. Some weeks on end you see vibrant hues of locks, and deep harvested eyes. It is wild here.

I chose you to tend to me. To caress me. To gaze. To visit now and again.

I chose you to remind me in the harsh winters that flowers always bloom again.

My body, it grows tired and restless sometimes. I might even tell you I wish my garden looked like those other ones.

The fresher ones.

​The brighter ones.

But we all know the grass just "seems greener".

I am working on the way I feel about me. I adapt to my changes, but not at the speed I would like. It should be instantaneous, I think to myself.

BAM. #instalove


I want to teach our kids to love their own bodies, while they are still young and believe us. Believe in magic and love. Before the world tells them we have to spray paint our garden in order to attract the bees.


I want to teach you to love yourself the way I see you. You are a Greek God in my eyes. Even while spilling salsa on your chest, in a midnight taco craving.


So, please. Kiss me here where my hips burst out of the leggings I had to beg and plead with to fit up over my cushioned belly.


Touch my stomach even though I squirm.

To show me you appreciate me and that I should too.


I love that you love me, that you share those tacos. That though we want to be fit and we hear the world selling us beautiful, our favorite place to sit is in the garden of our love.