'your body is a temple' you’re right. my body is a temple, a steeple, a monument to my own creation. but, remember this, next time you try to force me into a longer dress - my body is my temple. it is mine to decorate, mine to desecrate, mine to ruin, mine to adorn with precious things like jewels and makeup and short skirts. my body is a steeple of my own, a shrine to my life, to my beauty, my destructiveness, my love, my hatred. my body, my temple, my steeple, they are all mine. my body is not yours to order around, it is not yours to dictate, it is not yours to decide things for. my skin is not as soft as you may think - it has turned to armor, protecting my bones and my heart. does a knight hide his armor? does he hide his chainmail, his shield, his sword? my legs are chainmail, my chest is my shield, my arms are my swords. i will bear them with pride, and i will not be made to feel guilty to wearing my skin like kevlar. 'your body is a temple' yes. my body is a temple, and it is mine to burn or save as i please.
for the girls who are made to feel ashamed of their own bodies: wear your skin with pride. // t.y. (via deadangelo)















