These are some photographs I took of the moon recently, and looking over them I started to get really philosophical about how we see ourselves...

the moon is scarred, and dented, and not "perfect" and yet we love it anyway.

We refer to the moon as magical, beautiful, wondrous. We love how it looks, not just in spite of it's flaws but in part because of them

If only we could hold ourselves to the same standard? If only we could love ourselves like we love the moon.

We Can.

There's nothing stopping us. No laws state that we must fixate on our flaws and hold ourselves to ridiculous standards. There are no rules that state you must hate every flawed aspect in your skin. And yet we are made to feel like we should? As if every mole, every freckle, and every scar or stretch mark is a mark of shame that we must hide.

If the moon had no "flaws" it would be far less interesting to look at, and the same is true for you.

Those "flaws" make you unique. They make you interesting.

They tell a story, the story of you.

I want you to think of the moon every time you want to criticise yourself or others about an "imperfection".