It’s been a hard-fought battle between two formidable opponents.

She, with the crippling self-doubt
vs.
Her, with the knowing self-confidence

She, with the billion ads, movies and mirrors taunting “you’re not”
vs.
Her, with the bullshit detector

She, with the desperate need to be validated
vs.
Her, with the compassionate self-acceptance

Jab, hook, uppercut.
Always a counter punch.

She, with the self-indulgence, muting feelings and masking pain
vs.
Her, with the journaling and therapy, the bold, sober facing of it

She, with the shame of cellulite, moles, crow’s feet
vs.
Her, with the appreciation of health, symmetry, sexuality

She, with the dwelling over past and future
vs.
Her, with the intentional presence in the right now

Chest heaving, sweat dripping
each making the other
alive with power and purpose

She, with the nightmares, the worries, the dark assumptions
vs.
Her, with the dreams, the optimism, the benefit of the doubt

She, with the clanking, whining skepticism
vs.
Her, with the quiet, steady faith

She, with the fear of being discarded, growing old alone
vs.
Her, with the fierce independence and delight in solitude

Crushing blows still leave Her disoriented, but
She is, in these later rounds, often on the ropes

She, with the stubborn determination
vs.
Her, with the same

She, with the weariness 
vs.
Her, with the same

She, with the beauty, the vulnerability, the strength
vs.
Her. With the same.

Exhausted, elated, 
She raises Her arms.
There is just one woman in the ring, 
and She knows what doesn’t kill them makes Her stronger.