I maneuver slowly from the bathtub. As I grab the towel, my eyes catch my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. My grip loosens the hold, and the towel drops; I hang on to the sight of my naked body. What stands before me is anything but a perfect, slender figure. It’s an anatomy of emotions, a chronicle of stories, a vessel full of experiences, and it’s the naked truth that I hid.

I watch the droplets of water sliding down, and wonder how it would feel if I could wipe away all the history and begin again. Would I have treated it differently? Would I have escaped these blemishes? Some of the imperfections made their way there without me even knowing. I have had a love-hate relationship with my body, which started at a young age. I know all too well how a pure, lean figure gets tarnished. How one day you decide to let go as you do with a balloon on a string. Seeing it float away and then feeling the sudden urge to bring it back. I know the insecurities we have, how we secretly compare and long for what is never meant to be.

The suppleness of my skin reminds me how delicate and sweet it can be. The firmness reminds me how tough I can be. I see scars from battles I won, and the ones that you don’t see are from the battles I fought silently. The creases and crevices remind me of the times I resorted to neglecting myself. The deep cuts that healed with time remind me that, given some time, anything can heal. My silver strands remind me that aging is a fact of life. I laugh, and the wrinkles do appear; the twinkle in my eyes shows I still have a ways to go. The flaws I once saw are no longer flaws. I lived a life, and I survived.

I pick up the towel and begin to wipe the parts of me that were hurt. They eventually recovered. This body that carried me through time still stands strong even after all the turmoils. It was a pillar when others were falling apart, and it still stood strong when it too was stumbling. I see a woman who deserves respect, but I also see an infant who survived on comfort alone. I know a child who still wants to play and laugh, the one who still needs a hug and a hand to hold on to. I see a girl who needed acceptance and some guidance; she still wants to be comforted. Yes, I still need that now, but they sometimes forget that I, too, am a gentle human.

Just as our shadows appear and then disappear, so do our joys and sorrows. Amidst all this in and out, all I was seeking was acceptance. I see a daughter who did her best, and a sister who cared endlessly. I know a wife who persevered and a mother who sacrificed. This body that carried a living being didn’t fail those that came out from inside her. This body endured the kind of pain that no man will ever experience. It was able to create life.

My fingers glide along my physique, and I recall the struggle from a grip and how it gave in to lust. It was torn to bits at times and then longingly put back together. I recall the hurt I felt when unpleasant names were hurled at me, and how it feels when I’m praised. How could it be so desirable to one and yet loathed by another? At times, I longed for someone to accept it, just the way it is. The mere thought of someone overlooking my flaws and just accepting, I yearned for that acceptance.

Every touch that healed me and every kiss that caressed me, my body remembers. The silky dew shines in the light. I didn’t need another human to make me feel this way after all. Nobody ever completed me. I forbid farewell to pleasing long ago. I let go of the need to try to keep up, and suddenly, my organic beauty became the most desirable. Eyes began to flirt with me, words began to romance with me; I figured it all out. You will glow differently when you accept yourself, when the watch of the world is no longer bothersome, when you are at peace with the universe. It is then that you glow in your own simplicity. For once in my life, I embraced myself with respect. It was the clarity in becoming confident that led me to this moment.

I’m a work of art, a piece of history, beautifully encapsulated. This body carried me through it all. The body I once ignored is now my armor. We all try to cover up the imperfections that actually tell us we lived a little. I learned how to embrace and, with that, how not to compare. I wrap my towel around my reflection. I accept the body my soul thrives in. I am enough, just the way I am. What I failed to acknowledge all these years is that perception is reality, it’s the naked truth.