Art forms like painting, music or sculpture, celebrate the lives we live.  They are an outward expression of our inner most being.  A replication of times-gone-by in order to immortalize a moment or situation.

Likewise, fashion is an art form meant to celebrate the body, not condemn it to irrelevant standards.

So, why have we let the fashion industry steal our joy and dignity when it comes to fashion?  Why have we yielded for so long and tried to change our life giving bodies to fit standards of aesthetic. Have we forgotten the real beauty our bodies possess; the beauty of functionality of life and the soul which they house?

{This is the new standard for fashion I hope to create: that fashion be the outward color and joy of an inward soul.}

Fashion is a flag for all the world to see a glimpse of your character and your uniqueness.

{Every body is a good body; it is the life and love they facilitate that make them beautiful.}

What does it mean to have one eye color or another, when those eyes have witnessed the sorrows and joys of all your life and have cried for both?

It is not the size of ones nose that makes it remarkable, it is the breath of life it supports.  Your nose holds countless memories: the aroma of summer days, the scent of your mother, cologne on your first love, or the sweet smell of the top of your baby’s head.

Your mouth is so much more than its shape or fullness.  Your mouth has spoken love and laughed ’til your cheeks were sore.  Enjoyed sweet treats with friends, exquisite wines, and salty traditions.  It has taken part in passionate kisses.  And those kisses led to sweet kisses on your babies cheek.

Your arms which have embraced in comfort and rejected with strength are to be honored.  They cartwheeled and rope swung you through your childhood.  They have grown weary from the work that feeds you.  And delighted in rest when the work was done.  They have held your children and held your loved ones as they transitioned from this life to the next.  Your arms manifest the outward and physical expression of your love for others and that is what makes them beautiful.

Your hands have created masterpieces from early on; things perhaps kept in a box for only your eyes but masterpieces of your own sentiment. Hands that have played music, supported the weak, or braided your child’s hair.  Hands that have grown rough over time and are proud of their scars for the accomplishments they represent.  Beautiful wrinkled hands from years of life and wear.

Beauty is memories you create in the body your soul dwells in.

Your breasts.

Your most exploited and sensationalized body part.

Breasts that should be celebrated for their remarkable ability to feed our young, instead, have been cheapened by the greed of men.

Breasts are love, not sex.

Breasts are the care for all humanity, not something by which one steals humanity from women.

Breasts are the pillow your mother or grandmother so tenderly allowed to be your resting place when you scraped your knee or had your dignity stripped away from you at school.

Breasts are beautiful in a life giving way, not an exploitative way.

Your belly is lovelier than you give it credit for.  It houses all the functions that sustain your life and perpetuates life to come.  It has supported your existence since before you found yourself Earth-side, and the scar you call your belly button is proof of this.  It connected you to your mother, and if you are a mother it may have connected you to your children.  So love your belly for how miraculous it really is and stop judging it for its hard-earned stretch-marks.

Your legs are the pillars on which you hold your ground and stand tall! They carry you through your life and give you the pleasure of running, dancing, skipping.

Your feet hold memories of squishing mud through toes, sandy beaches and foamy surf, and tree bark as you scaled to the top of your first tree.

Your body is beautiful because of all the joy it houses, life it facilitates, and memories it makes. So clothe it with joy and honor whatever its shape or size.