To my partner,
I’m not the same person you first met.
I am heavier, I have more scars, and they’re not just on my skin. That’s okay.
My hair is messy, hardly tamed, has no moisture and always looks like I have just been electrocuted. That’s okay.
My clothing size is now double digits. I search and search for clothes that cover my arms and knees. That’s okay.
I am not as motivated as I use to be, I puff when I work out. My body aches from excess weight. That’s okay.
I argue with you, we fight. That’s okay.
We don’t always go for dates like we used to. That’s okay.
I have bags under my eyes, my pores are open, my skin isn’t as soft. That’s okay.
I spend more time in my pyjamas... and not because we are having a movie night. That’s okay.
I struggle with mental health. That’s okay.
You have stood by me, watched me go down a steep hill and into a very dark hole and picked up all my broken bits. That wasn’t fair.