Most of the time I hate my body.
I get angry because the clothes I want to wear don't always fit. I feel guilty for eating sweets. I scowl at myself in dressing room mirrors.
In moments like this I remember to cut myself some slack. I may not always love my body, but it looks this way for a reason.
Because the little boy who "woves mommy tummy" lived inside that tummy once.
I have never cared for bikinis and I'm too short for crop tops anyhow.