Tuesday, June 26, 2012
A letter to the Bod
Just a quick note to apologize for all you've had to put up over the years, and to say thanks for all you do and for not giving up on me completely.
I realize that in the past I've treated you like you were, well...disgusting. From about the time I was 10 or so...heh heh, guess it's been going on awhile. I'm sorry for every time I called you names, or asked you to live on water alone, or asked you to live on ice cream alone, or made you throw up, or just generally didn't appreciate you.
I'm sorry for being ashamed of you; for missing out on fun things because I egomaniacally believed anyone cared what I looked like in a swimsuit, or that time I wore JEANS in 8th grade into the pool...what was that?!
I'm sorry I didn't believe you were worthy to continue playing soccer past 8th grade; and you were even good at that. I'm sorry I never took you to try outs for track, or cross country, or anything else that would have greatly improved your abilities, health, and my self esteem. Frankly I was embarrassed by you, and thought you were somehow less than. Sorry.
Thank you for hanging in there. For climbing mountains with abandon and joy on weekends in high school despite being provided zero nutrition. For getting me through school and night shifts at the hospital. For beating every stomach virus and cold that came your way, and staying robustly healthy throughout every stress and every depressive episode.
Thanks for carrying my babies to term in luxuriously padded style, even when the doctors said surely, surely any body would miscarry under the circumstances. Thanks for holding on to those girls with ferocious tenacity, even though we had to go in with scalpels and retractors to get them out. Thanks for recovering from three c-sections with speedy ease so I could spend more time with my babies, especially Lily. Thanks for not exploding before we could get her out. That must've been a struggle, but you saved us both. Thanks for providing AMPLE nutrition for my kids, along with the happy favor of ample boobies, even if just for a few months. That was fun.
Thanks, yesterday, for running nine miles and for giving me a few glorious moments of effortless, natural rhythm. Like flying. Before, of course, collapsing back into huffing and puffing. Thanks for making me work for it. And today, thanks for reminding me of those 9 miles with proud and contented soreness. I promise to treat you to a spinach smoothie and a soak in the pool after swimming lessons.
So Yes, you tend to require more sleep than average, but at least you enjoy it to it's fullest. And you have no natural love of any food green, and instead crave cookies like air, but at least I've learned to supply both. And you tend towards roundness, except where it counts, and you decided your 20s were a good time to have teenage acne, and you are apparently eating your own thyroid, but I am very proud of you. And grateful. So thanks for putting up with me. I couldn't have done, well, anything without you.
Also my husband seems to like you. So thanks.