Stretch marks [H.S.]
Imagine this: You and Harry are in a public long-term relationship and during your holidays together a paparazzi takes a picture of you in a bikini and everyone’s commenting on your stretch marks.
“Fucking hell!”, you screamed as soon as you saw it.
You had woken up before Harry, as per usual. It was the first time in a while that he had absolutely nothing to do, so he took advantage of your vacation to catch up on his sleep. You didn't mind though, since one of your favourite pastimes was watching him sleep. He pulled the most adorable faces when he dreamt and you always tried to take pictures to show him when he finally woke up.That’s why you were on your phone first thing in the morning. You logged in on twitter and you saw that your mentions were ten times more than usual. Your eyes fell on a random one.
“omg look at those stretch marks isnt she supposed to be working out?”, it said, with a picture attached of you in a bikini, zoomed in on your butt, your stretch marks evident for the whole world to see.
You couldn’t help but yell out in surprise.
Harry woke up in a start, jumping out of the bed in an instant.
“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”, he asked, worry clear in his face.
“No. Just check your twitter.”, you said, defeated. You sat up on the bed and placed your phone on the night stand, not bothering to read any more tweets. You knew they would all go along the lines of Harry deserves someone without any stretch marks, without any flaws, someone as beautiful and kind and smart as he is. You’ve heard it all before, but it never bothered you, because no one knew anything real about your relationship.
But now, this really hit home for you. You were already extremely insecure about your body, sometimes even avoiding to wear tight or short clothing when you were out in public, afraid that someone would take a very unflattering picture of you that would make you feel shit about yourself. You liked the way you looked, but you knew that people would pick on every little thing and it scared you to even think about the things they could say. And that’s exactly what happened today.
You’d managed to avoid unwanted attention for the whole two weeks that you were here, since Harry rented a whole house for a month, with its own private beach in Jamaica, which was his favourite place in the world. You were spotted in the airport in London, but no one knew where you were going since Harry rented a private plane, and a car was waiting for you next to the runway when you landed. It was all very thought-out by Harry and you were impressed at the lengths he went through to give you the privacy that you both craved.
You were having the time of your lives so far, just enjoying each other’s company. It was the most time you’d spent together just the two of you since you’d gotten together two years ago. You’d met Harry in a transitional phase of his life, when he had to work his ass off to make it on his own, and he did it so well and you were so proud of him, but you’d been bugging him for a while to take a vacation together as soon as the tour ended. And he managed to surprise you in the best way possible. You spent every day at the beach, getting a nice tan and catching up on some reading, while Harry sat next to you in the shade, sometimes writing stuff or just talking about everything and anything. And of course, your nights were interesting, as well, with Harry trying to make up for all the nights he spent alone in hotel rooms thinking about you naked.
And then this had to happen. You thought about who could’ve ratted you out to the paps. Maybe it was the driver that brought you here two weeks ago or the grocery delivery guy that came yesterday when you ran out of everything, including toilet paper. Or maybe it was the cleaning lady that Harry hired to come once a week, even though you’d protested, saying you could clean perfectly fine on your own. In any case, you were getting angrier by the minute, for two reasons. First, because you couldn’t take a vacation with your boyfriend without the whole world knowing, which was bad enough in itself, but came with the job description of dating the one and only Harry Styles. You could deal with people not respecting your privacy, it happened all the bloody time. What you couldn’t deal with, however, was the fact that they made you feel bad about your fucking stretch marks of all things. Most girls you knew had them, even Harry’s model friends you’d met in real life had them. So what was the big deal about you having them? Why did they have to make you feel like less of a person for having them? Why did they make you feel like you weren’t enough to be Harry’s girlfriend?
“Don’t.”, Harry said, startling you. You were so lost in your self-destructive thoughts that you didn’t notice he took his phone and scrolled through his mentions, seeing what got you so upset.
You’d seen Harry get angry before, but never like this. He was literally fuming. His eyes were glazed over, his irises looking darker than you’d ever seen them. His nostrils were flared, his jaw clenching, making his jawline sharper. His right hand was gripping his phone so hard, you feared he would break it, and his left hand was clenched in a tight fist, his knuckles turning white from the force he was using. If you weren’t so angry yourself, you’d find this incredibly hot, and you’d be jumping his bones by now.
You remained speechless. You didn’t know how to calm him down. Your anger was slowly turning into despair and you were feeling so bad about yourself, that you couldn’t focus on Harry’s feelings, which were a priority for you normally.
“Don’t do this.”, he continued, when you didn’t say anything.
“Don’t do what, Harry?”, you asked.
“Don’t let them get to you.”
You turned your face away from him, because you couldn’t hold it together any longer. A single tear escaped your eyes, before you could stop it.
Harry was next to you in a heartbeat, holding your face in his hands, his thumb wiping the tear away. His expression was softer, anger replaced by worry.
“Please talk to me.”, he said so quietly you barely heard him
“It’s just hard sometimes, Harry. I try to be confident and not worry about what anyone says, but it’s so fucking hard.” Tears were streaming down your face freely now, and you didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Please stop crying, love. You are perfect to me, you know that.”, he said, his voice as sweet as his words.
“Stop it, Harry. I’m not perfect.”, you spat. You knew you were far from perfect. Your hair was constantly a mess, your eyes were too big for your small face, your boobs were almost non-existent and you were taller than what you thought was the perfect height for a woman. You cried too much and you laughed too loud. And of course, you had fucking stretch marks all over your butt and some on your tummy.
“Okay then what about me? Am I perfect to you?”, he asked frustrated.
“Of course, what kind of a question is that?”, you asked back. You didn’t understand where he was getting at.
“Well, newsflash, I’m not perfect either. And I’m proud of it. And you love me, because I’m not perfect. You love all my tattoos, even though I know you don’t like some of them at all. You love my eyes, even though I think they’re too small and squinty. You love my tummy, even though I think I need to work out a lot more to get rid of it. You love me and you think I’m perfect, but I’m not, love. That’s how I love you. I know you can’t see yourself through my eyes, but at least try. Do it for me. Because it hurts me so much when you think so little of yourself. Because to me, you are the most important person in the world and a picture of you showing your stretch marks won’t change that.”, he blurted.
You were crying again, this time it was the sheer force of his words and the amount of love they were coming from. You hugged him tightly, forgetting all about the harsh words people felt the need to say to you. Harry was the only one that mattered.
He pulled away from the hug a bit too soon for your liking. He looked at you and you smiled at him, but it wasn’t sincere. You would need some time to get over this and go back to liking yourself again.
Harry knew you weren’t fine just yet, and he would do his best to make you smile for real.
“I love every single part of you, darling.”, he said sweetly. He left small kisses all over you, starting at your forehead, then your eyelids, the corners of your lips and your jawline. He moved on to your neck, causing a soft moan escape your lips.
He stopped and smiled at that, saying “I love hearing that sound.”, causing you to laugh halfheartedly.
“I love your laugh, even though that wasn’t your best.” You laughed again, loud and real.
“That’s more like it.”, he continued. He pulled the covers off of you, revealing your naked body that was hiding underneath. You always slept naked when you were together, he wouldn’t let anything get between you, even if it was just your pajamas. He scanned over your body with his hungry eyes, stopping at your waist. You realized he was focused on where your stretch marks were, and you got self-conscious again, your hands shooting down to cover yourself.
He playfully slapped your hands away, saying “I want to see you, love. All of you. Don’t hide yourself from me.”
You placed your hands to your side, letting yourself become vulnerable.
He smiled at you, his cute dimple melting your heart. He lay down next to you on the bed, his left hand stroking up and down your side. His fingers traced your stretch marks one by one and then he stopped, pointing at a particularly large one.
“This one’s my favourite.”
You laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement, but you couldn’t help but wonder why.
“Because it’s big and white and weirdly shaped. It’s like it’s asking for my attention. It can remind you of me. I’m always begging for attention.”
“I love you Harry. So fucking much.”, you said, another tear escaping from you. It was a tear of happiness this time, though.
“And I love you, too, my love. You are my everything.”
“You know what? I think I love my stretch marks,too.”
“You should. They are works of art.” You smiled again, happy as ever.
You remained like that for a while, Harry tracing your body with his long fingers and you simply staring at him with adoration. Then, an idea came to you, and you got up, dragging Harry behind you, holding his hand.
“What are you doing?”, he asked, but followed you without protesting.
“You’ll see.”, you said, taking your phone from the night stand and stopping to put your favourite bikini on, the one that was Harry’s favourite as well, because it was leaving very little to the imagination.
You dragged him all the way to the bathroom, where you stopped in front of the large mirror. You looked at yourself over once, taking a deep breath. You were really going to do this.
Harry was standing behind you, still naked, looking more confused than ever.
“So, what are we doing?”, he asked.
“Stand by the door for a minute, babe.”, you said and he obliged.
After another deep breath, you posed in front of the mirror, making sure your stretch marks were showing clearly and took a picture. You opened instagram up and started writing the caption.
Harry walked back in the room, and hugged you from behind, trying to take a peak at your phone. As soon as he saw what you were doing, his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.
“My love, are you sure you want to do this?”, he asked, bewildered.
“More sure than ever. Not everyone has a Harry in their life to remind them to love themselves.”
He smiled at you and kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I’m so proud of you, my love. You are amazing.”
You smiled back at him and read your caption over again.
“Hello world, this is me, and those are my stretch marks. I don’t like them very much, but I’ve learned to love them, nonetheless, because they remind me I’m human. I’m real, I make mistakes, I have flaws, I’m alive and I’m changed by life. Some days I like the way I look, but some days I don’t. And that’s okay. I still love myself, despite all that. Because nobody is perfect. And in this awful world we live in, we deserve to love ourselves, because sometimes that’s all we have. If you are insecure about anything on your body, just remember, you can still love yourself and you deserve it. And even if you can’t find the strength to do so, just know that you can get there, and I believe in you. Also, I’d like to thank the paps that made me feel like crap today, because I realized that not everyone has someone to tell them they love them with all their flaws like I do, and I’d just like to be that person for you today. All my love x”
You pressed post and hoped that someone out there would feel better about themselves after reading it, knowing that if they did, it was worth all the self-doubt and tears your stretch marks caused you.
You turned to look at your amazing boyfriend, and you found him already staring at you.
“Thanks for everything, Harry. I couldn’t get through this without you.”
“Thanks for being you, my love. Amazing, beautiful, not perfect, you.”
You felt so happy at that moment, being with him, that anything anyone said wouldn’t change this feeling. You realized then, that it was you against the world, but you had Harry as your ally, and you could face anything if he was by your side, even your own insecurities.
Okay, so I’m going to get real with you for a moment. This was extremely difficult for me to write, because my stretch marks are one of my biggest insecurities. I have some bad days myself, and I need someone to remind me to love myself. So, consider this your reminder. Your flaws don’t define you. You are allowed to not like yourself, but you are still obligated to love yourself through everything. You are all you have at the end of the day, and you deserve it. I know it might sound impossible, but you love other people unconditionally, so why not yourself? You are perfect just the way you are. Remember, treat people with kindness, because everyone is facing their own fears and insecurities, but most importantly, love yourself, because you are trying your best, and you are human, and you matter.
Thanks for reading, and as always my inbox is open for you lovelies. Going to cry now, k bye x
