They say competition is a root of all hate. Now, they’re saying it can also a root of most fun.

Do you love to be surrounded by beauty?

I certainly do!

There’s something about being at the mercy of others for your visual satisfaction.

It all began for me when I was sitting on a friend’s couch one day and I couldn’t find my favorite snack I used to eat every night before I went to bed. She couldn’t find my snack either, so we got the ol’ look in my eyes and scoured through my cabinets. She was cleaning out her own closet, so I decided to do the same.

Yep, nothing.

Seemed like a strange state to me, but I’m not an everyday dieter either, so this must be one of the singular worst areas in life where a penny saved, is a penny earned.

My New Friend Zero yielded nothing. Zero. Nada. Zero.


Ever since, I’ve been attempting to find my g-spot. Somewhere in that whole process has been, attempting to be friends with my stretch marks.

And by “ trying to be friends with my stretch marks,” I mean I’ve been trying to make them look how they should.

Obviously not every stretch mark is the same. I’ve received some that look like a beautiful rosebush. Some are like the fuzzy legs of something you find in a pet store. Some are so deep in the folds of my skin that they’re just so bald.

My whole bump in the middle thing though, has always been a challenge. In my early 20s, I’d get one here or there, and I would go to great lengths to hide them, with so many layers of foundations and more plastic surgery than I’d ever heard of.

But on top of all that, my mom has these random bumps on her, which always remind me of being a little girl with her mom.

Although, they haven’t helped much.


Now in my mid-30s, I don’t have these bloated bumps as much. I still hide them in layers of fashion, makeup and pampering, and sometimes just go to sleep.

Now, though, I’m an active workout machine, so I guess that’s one way of trying to hide those things that used to be so huge. I guess I try to blend that with pore-stretching and reminding myself I do get these bumps like I used to, as if they meant something less than my boobs!

Whatever it is, I’m never going to completely hide them, but I know that I always need to be aware of them in case anyone is going to notice how insanely perfect I am.

(The last time I noticed a random bump was actually in a Tanning bed.)

Sometimes we find that love for our bodies is only when we’re being held up by them, even if it’s sometimes the love that they give us for not staying in them.

But then you also find it when you’re completely sick, hurt, or just get through it, because it’s the love of a woman whose was built for your imperfections and your imperfections are built for her.

(This story originally appeared on OurAmazingPlanet, part of the USA TODAY Network. Click here to learn more.)