breaking free
When I wore a deliciously soft and figure-hugging new t-shirt on Saturday, over the jeans I’m slowly shrinking out of, I felt different. Smaller. It was an indescribably good feeling, further boosted by seeing how my denim is starting to crease around my thighs as it grows looser. Take that, scale!
So, for the very first time in my life and in celebration of imperfectionism, I took photos of myself with no make-up on, and with wet, uncombed hair. And I didn’t die when I saw the results. As a matter of fact, I liked it. I am breaking free.
