To The Girl Wearing a Crop Top With Stretch Marks: THANK YOU

I am ugly. I am horrid. I am terrible. My reflection says to me.

If I thought I was insecure, I promise you it got way worse after I had a C-section.

Granted, a lot of it was probably the postpartum depression encouraging me to hate myself, but I looked at my large scar, the tiger stripes that now went across my body, and I cried.

I mourned for all the things I wanted to wear, all the ways I wanted people to look at me.

I am ugly. I am horrid. I am terrible my reflection says to me.

I live in an area where there is no spring, just a long, horrible winter, and an even longer, hotter summer. So my envy of girls in short shorts and tank tops goes way beyond fashion, I just wish My body was beautiful enough for me to not have to cover every inch of it all summer.

Enter, the woman, we'll call her Fran*

I never met Fran before. We were all strangers at this college graduation barbeque but all bonded instantly over our love of all things geeky. In between the Star Wars arguments and Deadpool one-liners, I found myself staring in awe of Fran quite a bit.

She was beautiful and tall. She had that glowing brown skin that was all one smooth color. Her afro bounced as she laughed when someone complimented her top. It was a burgundy crop top that said "Thick Thighs. Thin Patience." She looked so amazing in her shorts and crop top that I started to think "I wish I didn't have stretch marks on my belly so I could wear that."

Hold up, Quinzel, she has stretch marks.

I was so caught up in the comparison game, of replaying the record known as Quinzel's Low Self Esteem, that I didn't even notice that Fran was someone just like me.

And I didn't think she was ugly

I didn't think she was horrid

And I certainly didn't think she was terrible

Fran was kind, funny, and beautiful, stretch marks and all.

So what the hell was wrong with me? Why was I so judgemental with myself and so quick to see the beauty in someone else?

So this is my love letter to Fran, who made me wake up and say Fuck It, I am not ugly, I am not horrid, I am not terrible.

And I am buying that fucking crop top and rocking it.

*I made this name up, I'm not even sure I know anyone irl named Fran