A mini anniversary

Roughly two years ago, I wrote a standalone piece regarding my 'Click' -- a moment I remember fully identifying as a feminist. I copy it here as a reminder of my past and how it lead to my future. I copy it here as a mini-womanifesto. I copy it here to call out to girls who have been in such a situation. I copy it here to give hope and a little reality check.

rejection, redemption, submission, empowerment

You'll either find what I have to say depressing, cheesy, stupid, or smart. Whatever the case, just don't pity me.
Tonight I looked in the mirror. Simple enough statement. But recall the times you've done such a routine and questioned your quirks.
Body dysphoria. Happens to the best of us. But should it?
Tonight I took things into my own hands. I refused to sit back and have society label me for things I can't help, for things that don't matter, for things that aren't bad.
I stripped down, took out a ballpoint pen and went to work. First, I wrote the things people call me, the ways I'm made fun of, the parts that aren't "normal".
But I took another next step.
I wrote about the things I'm proud of, the things I love, the things no one else seems to see. I didn't cover my body with Xs and Os, lines or dashes, like a jaded schoolgirl performing fake cosmetic surgery.
I covered my body in words.
Then I showered, scrubbed away the animosity, the tallies, the trademarks. I think it's a little bit ironic that the one spot I missed was my final proclamation: "I am perfect." I haven't washed it away, and don't intend to. The ink will remain until it is absorbed, and, with it, the declaration itself.
Maybe you wouldn't go to such extremes, but it's interesting that I had to do so to fully realize that I'm just like anyone else, that my body's just a shell. My personality fills it, what makes me who I am. And, if I may say so, I think I'm pretty kick-ass.