As a young woman it seems my body serves threat to my soul.

My body making up me; unqiue.

Curved and straight and flat and wide and thin and all, is my own.

And yet it gives me greatest fear, seeming that it holds a significant amount of worth.

My motivation is keep myself healthy, my eating habits and the reasons I exercise ly farther than to please a man.

My body is so they say, my temple.

Mine to uphold and charish, I should feel open to love all that is my self.

I value though, my soul over gaps between my legs, there or not.

I value more my honesty and acceptance, than the curves on my sides, there or not.

I may have traits that appeal, traits that may not. 

I value though all my traits, and more importantly the ones that make up who I am.

My being is not what my genes created, but who I am as a person.

My character, my morals, my fears, my loves...

My readiness for love and marriage can be only defined by how mature my heart is, how ready my mind is.

Not how ready for the dating-world my body is.

Social standards are not standard.

If standard as an adjective, can be defined by "used or accepted as normal or average,"

than I would say the standard for a woman's appereance and the social standard for a woman's appearance could not be farther appart.

Even if I looked like a woman on a magazine, I would not accept that as a measure of my worth.

Does my body dismiss what I have to offer, in any way.

I reject that unstandard social standards, and accept instead my soul.