Naked: A softening perspective

I look at myself in the mirror. Naked. From a distance, there's an hourglass shape. Upon closer inspection, however, there are all the faults I'm learning to process. The older I get, the more of them I see. But also, the easier they are to accept. My perspective softens with age. And I become more forgiving.

I stopped looking at magazines years ago. But it doesn't mean I don't inadvertently compare myself to other women. Constantly. And it shines a huge spotlight on my insecurities. My rather ample behind, my softening midsection, my less than perky breasts.

But, when I'm alone, I can usually look past all of that. And I'm getting better at accepting that Daddy finds all of it attractive. All of it. Which sort of blows my mind. I'm also getting better at dressing for the body that I have rather than the body I wish I had.

Acceptance is half the battle right?

So as I stand naked before the mirror, in the full glow of the bathroom lights, I place a hand beneath each breast to lift them. I let them drop and marvel at how changeable they are. When it's cold, the nipples pucker and darken to a shade of brown. But they melt in the heat, becoming weighted by the humidity. They grow dark hairs that I constantly pluck out, because I hate them, But the areolas, on a warm day, are a lovely shade of blush  on a background of pale white skin.


And then there are the purple and white stretch marks across my abdomen and hips. There's nothing I can do about those, besides look past them. Along with my thighs, which have always rubbed together, and will...no matter how much weight I lose.

But there are parts I love. My hands, my eyes, my lips, my skin, my hair.

It helps to look through someone else's eyes on occasion. So, I asked Daddy to write briefly about HIS image of me. This is the list He came up with:

Qualities:
strong, but prefers to follow me
bratty
uber professional at work
worrier
obsessive 
closed off
hard to approach
socially not engaged 
an awesome wife
a loving mother
my best friend
inappropriate (you might not say it but you laugh at it when I do)
easily agitated and annoyed
the ability to squirt
your love for masturbation 
your adventurousness and willingness to follow me when your head is in the game 
that you find women as sexy as I do
that you find other men attractive and can tell me.
you will laugh at me when I do something dumb
you are submissive
that you are so literary and well-schooled
that you can make geek jokes and you laugh at crude ones

Appearance:
your green eyes, such pools of jade
your hips, the way they hourglass away from your waist
your full breasts, you are a mom and they are still spectacular
your tattoos
your ass, such a marvel of perfect womanhood
your perfectly shaped asshole
you DON'T have a gut
your shaved pussy is porn quality 

Interestingly, my mind went straight to appearance and body image with this prompt, but his traversed the landscape of personality, character, actions, and appearance. He has a much broader lens to examine me with.

I probably should, too.

Something I also notice is that I gravitate to women's bodies that are like mine. It's not that I'm trying to make myself feel better. It's that I "find them attractive." All the things that I hate about my own body are the things I love about theirs. How dumb is that?

Here are a few examples...

Both women are beautiful...but get a load of miss Surrey! Not your typical beauty queen. I'm certainly not saying that Miss England is unattractive. But...I'm personally more attracted to the gal on the left. That's why it's so odd that I hold myself up to the standard of Miss England here. Why do I want to look like that, when what I think is hot...is not that at all? Bizarre.

And to conclude...me...in all my size 14 glory.