“Change? Something about ME? I would change nothing!” I shout, and then I do a six foot vertical leap, ending on a triple flip.

No, but really.

Like all AFAB people, I look in the mirror and the physical dislikes jump out like tasks I should be working on, for the benefit of my husband, for the benefit of my children, my grandmother, the world itself. The men at gas stations, who should have something better to whoop at.

Like all nonbinary people, there’s a bunch of that shit happening, too.

Recently though, my daughter looked down at a picture of herself, brow furrowed. “Look at me! My face is all smooshy.”

Panic.

Little things, phrased six-year-old style, but they matter. Little things, but seeds are little, too.

So I started doing something different. Let’s not call it an affirmation, because it’s not. I don’t say it when she’s not there. But I look in the mirror now and say, “Hey there hot stuff!”

It doesn’t matter what the picture looks like. I will find something of myself to compliment. “Heck yeah, check out that stud with the perfect eyebrows!”

“Put a crown on that beaut, it’s the duchess of cute!”

“Oh, I love my cute lil cheeks.”

“My hair looks so pretty in this one!”

Recently, big girl took a video of herself. Her smile stayed, and she jumped up and down in place, and then held the phone out for me to see.

“Look! Mama, look! I have your big cute booty!”