When I was very very young, probably 10 or 12, I used to want a flat stomach, low-rise jeans, and a cropped top. I grew up watching Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera music videos, where being skinny wasn’t just normal—it was the ultimate goal. And even though I’ve been slender most of my life, I still felt like I wasn’t skinny enough. Crazy, right? But that’s what impossible body standards do to us.

Now, move forward 33 years ahead, I am a different person, I don’t care about a flat stomach. I care about having a strong, fully functioning body that can carry me through life. Rather than trying to fit into an impossible beauty standard, I now care about whether I’m getting enough sleep, if I’m eating balanced meals, how well I manage my stress, and how long my Sunday long run will be, I like to feel the power in my legs. My body is no longer a project; it’s my home, and I take care of it accordingly.

But I also see the struggles around me. I have close girlfriends who battle with body image in their own ways. One pushed herself through the keto diet until her hair started falling out and her nails became brittle. Another avoids the topic of weight entirely and instead pays endlessly visit to the beauty clinics, as if perfect skin could make up for how she feels about her body.

I never tell them what I see. I don’t want them to think I’m judging them, because I’m not. But when they tell me that I have their “body goal,” I smile and say, “And your kind personality is my life goal, darling.” Because it’s true. Beauty fades, bodies change, but the way we treat ourselves and others—that’s what stays.

I admire the overweight women I see walking fast when I jog. I silently cheer for them because I know that every step they take is a victory, a quiet rebellion against the judgment they face. And I wonder—what does it feel like to live in a body that the world constantly tells you is wrong? Women are taught from a young age that their bodies are projects, problems to be fixed, and the scale’s number is equal to body worth. Overwhelmingly sad indeed.

But I’ve learned that self-acceptance is the real goal. When a woman is comfortable in her own skin, she shines in a way no beauty treatment or weight loss ever could. And that’s what I wish for all of us—not to chase an impossible ideal, but to find peace in our own skin, to be strong, healthy, and, most of all, kind to ourselves.

Our body is our home. It is also our only vessel while we are still on this earth. Please look at this home with a different perspective—don’t hate it, don’t fight it. Embrace this vessel with love. This is all we’ve got. And that, in itself, is enough.

Stay kind my dearest readers,

Karin Sabrina