A Letter to the Woman Who Feels She Can’t Love Her Body

Dear Woman,

I want to take a moment to speak to the part of you that feels tired of pretending.

The part that stands in front of the mirror and wishes she could disappear or transform.

The part that has learned to measure her worth in inches and shapes and comparisons.

I see how exhausting it is to carry the weight of so many expectations.

I see how you have been taught, again and again, that your body is a problem to be solved.

That you are only as lovable as you are beautiful.

That your softness or your curves or your scars are something to hide or to fix.

I want you to know this: You were never meant to be perfect.

You were never meant to be an idea in someone else’s mind.

You were born to be alive.

Your body is not here to be pleasing.

Your body is not here to win approval.

Your body is here to carry your spirit through this life.

To help you feel, love, move, grieve, create, and heal.

Even on the days when you cannot stand to look at yourself, your body remains loyal.

It keeps breathing for you.

It keeps your heart beating.

It keeps showing up, no matter how many times you abandon it.

Maybe you learned to withdraw: to cover yourself, to stay small, to refuse the pleasure and presence that your body longs for.

Or maybe you learned to push back: to pretend you didn’t care, to project strength that never quite felt real.

Whatever your strategy, please know: there is no shame in how you have survived.

There is only an invitation to come back home.

Coming home to your body does not mean you will love every part of it all the time.

It does not mean you will never feel the sting of comparison or the ache of old stories.

It means you are willing to stay.

To soften.

To remember that this body, exactly as it is, is worthy of kindness.

If you need a place to begin, start here:

When you feel the urge to criticize yourself, pause.

Place your hands on your chest or your belly.

Take a slow breath.

And whisper to yourself:

I am here. I am alive. I am worthy.

And when you forget, because you will forget, come back to this moment.

Come back to this breath.

Come back to this quiet knowing:

There is nothing in you that needs to be hidden.

You are allowed to take up space.

You are allowed to be seen.

You are allowed to begin again.

With all our love,

The Women of Working With Satya