I’ve spent years thinking of myself as unfinished. As someone in progress. Waiting for the “after” photo to finally prove I’m enough. I’ve stared at old photos of myself and thought, just wait—one day you’ll be better. Thinner. More successful. More healed. More lovable. That day always seemed to be somewhere out there. And so, I learned to live as if my worth was delayed. As if I had to earn it by changing something first.
But I’m done with that story.
I am not a “before” picture. I am not a warning sign or a promise of future transformation. I am a whole, worthy human being right now. Not once I lose the weight. Not when I finally stop crying over what hurt me. Not when I hit some invisible marker of “success.” Just as I am—in this exact body, with this exact heart—I’m enough.
This moment in my life is not a draft. It’s not a rehearsal. It is my life. And it deserves to be honoured, not rushed through while chasing the next version of myself.
Yes, I still want to grow. That’s human. But not because I hate who I am now. I want to grow because I care about this life I’ve been given. Because I respect it. Because I want to show up more fully—not shrink myself out of shame.
I’m not waiting for a makeover, a glow-up, or someone else’s approval. I get to be proud of myself now. I get to love this version, not just the one I might become. This isn’t the “before.” This is me. And I’m not lacking. I’m living.