Inspired By Jill Scott's Song Pressha

                                                                            Soaking Up Sun No Pressha

Sometimes the pressha does not come from what I think about myself.

Sometimes it comes from walking into a world that has already decided what it wants to see.

A certain body.
A certain shape.
A certain face.
A certain type of woman.

And if you do not fit that picture, people will try to make you feel like you are not enough. They will look over you, look past you, or act like your beauty is invisible because it does not match what they have been trained to chase.

But I am learning something.

I may not fit what everybody wants to see, but I fit me.

I fit my own skin.
I fit my own laugh.
I fit my own walk.
I fit my own spirit.
I fit my own story.

And that matters more than being somebody’s favorite type.

I am not here to shrink myself into a version that makes other people comfortable. I am not here to hate my body because someone else does not know how to appreciate it. I am not here to compete with women who look different from me, because their beauty does not cancel mine.

There is room for all of us.

Some days, yes, the pressha gets loud. It tells me to change this, hide that, tighten this, smooth that out, lose more, do more, be more. It tries to convince me that I have to become something else before I can be seen, wanted, loved, or chosen.

But I am tired of letting the world talk me out of myself.

This body is mine.
This face is mine.
This softness is mine.
This strength is mine.
This woman is mine.

And I am allowed to love her right now.

Not after I change.
Not after somebody picks me.
Not after I become the type people praise.

Right now.

Because fitting myself is the real freedom.

I may not be everybody’s cup of tea, but I am still full of flavor. I may not be the picture they had in mind, but I am still art. I may not be what everyone wants to see, but I am done acting like that makes me less.

I do not have to be chosen by everybody to be valuable.

I do not have to fit every standard to be beautiful.

I do not have to become smaller, quieter, smoother, thicker, younger, or easier just to prove I belong.

I already belong to myself.

So let them have their type.

I am learning to stand in mine.

And under all this pressha, I am still breathing, still growing, still glowing, and still becoming the woman I was always meant to be.

I may not fit what everyone wants to see.

But baby, I fit me.