I was afraid of change until I saw that even the most beautiful butterfly needed to go through a metamorphosis before it could fly. And I said to myself more fidelity with you, see that changes challenge you new opportunities; so, live intensely, that the doors that open for you just happen, they are unpredictable, and when they arrive then I dare to take them.

In that pure and constant movement of life that many times I can't even control, I run into myself with the way I look at myself, it's something like when I'm looking for which photograph to choose to put on the cover of my posts and share with you my fellow Hiveians.

And I ask myself, in which picture do I look better or prettier to publish it? Or would it be better for me to post any of them? It's a dilemma, a grumbling, between (I like this one, I don't like this one), my daily diatribe when presenting what I write for you.

It's like living at war with myself, why, simply because I can't resist accepting that "I don't like this nose, this mouth, these eyes with wrinkles, my hair is too messy and with too many curls for my taste" and it turns out that I'm embarrassed, and at war with my physiognomy after so many NON-plastic surgeries.

Why fight against it?

And if there are simply things I cannot change, almost daily I was self-flagellating myself with very harsh words, constantly punishing myself, ranting about my own humanity, about my physical body.

There came a time when my cruelty because of my nonconformity could not solve my defects or physical imperfections, I felt mutilated because I had no breasts, only a scar that crossed my wounded breast... But I was still alive, magnificent, my relatives told me.

I remember so many times I hid, so they would not see me disheveled; to hide my huge dark circles under my eyes and my swollen eyes with edema after the chemo therapies (which I now understood reminded me of what I was struggling with) I was fighting against a very cruel scourge.

Furthermore, I could not be positive all the time, more so if I was going through a difficult time and that is okay, to not be okay, to accept the emotion and work through it, not deny it, not cover it with an exaggerated optimism, that would not allow me to process what I was going through.

The permanence of things is just a desire of fear; I fear the pain that is often unavoidable; but in my personal experience, it is ultimately sobering.

Look back...

To realize this process, and the immense chains that bound me, I hid because I did not want to see them; I limited myself.

I stopped doing physical activity (which I love) just to not spoil my hair and to be like this, impeccable for the next day... without even knowing if that other day would come... How silly and superficial I was.

That's how I lived like many women with so many absurd beliefs; it doesn't mean that I should give up femininity or stop grooming myself as part of self-care; but rather, that even daring, I should love myself... Just as I am, "perfectly imperfect".

I don't have to be so rigid with my imperfections, I can't or shouldn't always demand so much from myself to be flawless. I understood that it is much more liberating to be authentic, and genuine, even with all my imperfections at the cost. If loyalty, fidelity, and love to start with oneself; without giving up being "me" to be what others want me to be.

Why spend my life embarrassing myself?

I may not like what I see at times; however, I am daring to be free; feeling... living, stopping treating myself badly or criticizing myself, and analyzing why I say negative things to myself so many times.

After not having hair, it was born, it grew abundant, very different, wavy, and rebellious, just like I am (laughs)... like life itself and its crossroads.

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Wanting to be attractive is healthy; the problem occurs when it becomes an obsession that conditions behavior. Have you ever suffered from dissatisfaction with the way you look, or do you accept yourself the way your body image is?

I'll Read you in the comments