Watch the Complete Viral Video at the Hotel, Completely Naked - Leaked Twitter Video

The floor was covered with perspective outfits, all of them rejected, some without even being tried on. I was already running late, and instead of rushing around to get out the door, I stood in my closet looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

Oh, and I was naked.

As the minutes ticked by and my tardiness grew into outright rudeness, I gazed at my body, taking in all of the details that I deemed to be imperfections. What is or isn’t perceived as an imperfection wasn’t something that I came up with, rather than a list of things gathered up from what society deemed unacceptable about the female form. The cellulite that lined my thighs and ass. The stretch marks pulled across my hips and love handles. Even my chest, plump and full, but dotted with freckles and hanging lower than it did when I was in my early twenties.

I feel as if I have been waging a war on my body for a long time, for at least twenty years of my life. There are times when I love it, taking in the way my waist curves out to meet my hips. There are times when I hate it, the way the skin puckers over the fat that clings to the back of my thighs and the way my tummy hangs a little more than it used to before I gained so much weight.

I’ve been considered thin and I’ve been considered heavy. I’ve watched the scale plummet and cried when it began to rise again. There are very few times where I have loved the body I am in. There are times when I look in the mirror and think I look okay, cute even, but that usually has more to do with the clothes than anything else.

No, when I’m naked, and it is just me and the skin I’m in, I find it very difficult to embrace the way my body looks.