How I Learned to Love My Breasts Even Though One Is A Horcrux For Voldemort

Summary

The author describes their journey to self-acceptance despite the unique challenge of having one breast that serves as a Horcrux for Lord Voldemort.

Abstract

The article titled "How I Learned to Love My Breasts Even Though One Is A Horcrux For Voldemort" is a personal narrative about body positivity in the face of an extraordinary circumstance. The author shares their struggle with self-consciousness due to one of their breasts being a vessel for the dark wizard's soul. Despite trying various beauty and fitness regimens promoted by celebrities, the author's focus on this issue persisted until a friend suggested embracing their unique situation. Discovering an online community of individuals with similar experiences helped the author realize that their condition was natural and not a barrier to self-love. While the author still grapples with complex feelings about their body, they have learned to appreciate it for its abilities and the life it allows them to live.

Opinions

The author expresses a deep-seated insecurity about their body due to one breast containing a part of Voldemort's soul.
There is a sense of frustration and futility in trying to achieve societal standards of beauty when faced with such an unusual and magical circumstance.
The author's friend offers a perspective of self-acceptance that initially surprises them, suggesting that time spent worrying could be better used to embrace one's unique qualities.
Finding a supportive online community plays a pivotal role in the author's path to self-love, highlighting the importance of shared experiences and solidarity.
The author acknowledges that self-acceptance is a process, not an overnight solution, and that they still have moments of doubt and anger regarding their condition.
Ultimately, the author adopts a more holistic view of their body, appreciating it for its functionality, joy, and even its darker aspects.

How I Learned to Love My Breasts Even Though One Is A Horcrux For Voldemort

Everyone has something they feel self conscious about. Maybe it’s cellulite on the thighs or love handles that won’t go away with exercise. For me, it has always been that my left breast was a Horcrux for Lord Voldemort.

Growing up, I used to pour over the pages of Seventeen Magazine and US Weekly trying out every tip and trick that celebrities cited for their perfect bodies. But no matter how many times I did a lemon and cayenne pepper cleanse or squatted until I could barely feel my legs, he was still there telling me to find The Boy.

I spent so much of my youth staring in the mirror, pinching and squeezing at He Who Must Not Be Named, imagining how much better my life would be if I just had two non-sentient breasts. I would cry endless tears into my pillow thinking that no guy would ever want to be with me after I got naked and the Dark Lord started talking about his plans for Harry Potter. Instead of being excited about first dates, I would have panic attacks thinking about what would happen if we ever became intimate.

Then one day, I was telling a friend how much I wished I could change my situation when she asked “How many hours a day are you miserable about this? What if you spent that time being comfortable in the body you were cursed with instead of fighting it?” I was stunned. Love all of myself? Even the ugly, dark, murderous parts of me?

I went home that day and Googled “Voldemort Tits???” and was shocked by what I had found. Through more research, I found a small but passionate community of folks who were going through the exact same thing as me. There I discovered I wasn’t the only person with one functional breast and one Hitler allegory. Through conversations with others, I realized this was completely natural and normal. This community truly saved my life.

I can’t say I wake up every day and love my breasts. Sometimes I still get angry that a part of my body wants to murder an eleven-year-old boy. But now I can look at my body and think about all that it does for me. This body carries me through life. This body throws my niece up in the air in a way that makes her giggle. This body tastes lemon bars that are so good my eyes start to water. This body avada kedavra’s the man who cut me off in rush hour traffic. And I love all of it.