A Letter to My Body

You’ve betrayed me.

You’ve given me asthma and astigmatism and allergies and lactose intolerance. Remember that time you gave me a tumor in my skull? Or when you decided to vomit while trying to break up with someone?

Most painfully, you’ve given me a brain that seems incapable of loving you or myself. You’ve gotten bigger without my permission or my intent. In doing so, you’ve taken away the last bit of self confidence that my mind previously allowed me to hold on to.

Most of the time I hate you, and I want to blame you, but deep down I know that it’s not right. It’s not right to be angry at something so resilient, something so beautiful in its own way. You’ve endured injuries, and trauma, and countless cases of bronchitis. Girl, you got an IUD inserted.

You’ve swam and ran and laughed and loved. You’re capable of creating another life! Which by the way, can we uninstall that feature?

Your eyes are gigantic, but look at that perky little butt and those long curls.

You’ve competed in marathons and obstacle courses to benefit those in need. Every inch of you ached the next day, but you were so strong.

You are strong.

You’re a little rounder and you’ve given me a reality check on the dangers of short shorts and chafing. Your brain is sometimes sad or high-strung, even with the aid of medication. Your sleep cycle sucks, as evidenced by the bags under your eyes. Yet, I’m learning to embrace you for it still.

You’ve carried me for the past twenty-five years, and I have not loved you like I should. I have not cared for you or appreciated you properly, and for that I am sorry. You deserve to be respected after all you’ve done for me.

Dear body, you are not my enemy, you are my strongest asset. It’s time for me to treat you like so.