You are enough.
The you that stands before the mirror and only sees flaws.
You that wrinkles her nose at her stretch marks
Squeezes the fat on her stomach and imagines the knife of a plastic surgeon splicing and dicing it into the rock hard ab like stomach of 2006 Like a Boy Ciara
The nose you wish was smaller or bigger
The forehead you cover with all five fingers measuring the “immense” space
The bosom you wish was more well endowed
The butt you wish was much curvier
But all you can afford is squats not a Crichlow
The “thunder thighs”
The “thigh gap”
The legs that rub together
The hue of your skin you always wished was a slightly different colour
They are all enough
Whatever label the world constantly slaps on you and whatever you slap on yourself,
Woman, you are enough. You are more than enough. The you that you are.
The you that stands in front the mirror and stares right back at you,
She is more than enough.
And don’t you dare forget it.