I Hated Her

I hated her,

Her mouth, her nose, her eyes,

and even her doughy, dimpled thighs.

I loathed her lack of beauty,

and despised all her ugly.

I detested her, even the parts I could not see.

The stretch marks that wrapped her breasts and waist,

and I hated the way she took up space.

Every time I looked in her eyes,

I abhorred the way it would make me cry.

I'd look away from her one day,

Tired of all that anger and hate.

I once swore an oath not to discriminate.

It filled me with dread and shame.

I had to practice some love,

For this woman who'd given so much.

She was more than her body,

and as a person, so lovely.

I told myself to embrace,

the body in which she was caged.

With tears streaming down my face,

I learned how to change.

In my reflection I could see,

how my self-hatred turned ugly.

Still large and fluffy,

I'm kinder to me.

As I look back,

I can joyfully laugh.

In my reflection I now see,

the wonderful person I'm meant to be.

You see, my children, oh I'm blessed mum,

Still lie their heads on my great tum.

When we hug, they do not see

all the flaws which make me, me.

My body, now full of laughter,

doesn't mind the jiggle that follows after.

I hated her,

but, now, she loves me.