Dear Body...

The following post is a challenge from SheLoves Magazine, to write a love letter to your body...here goes...



Dear Body,



This year marks your thirtieth. We’ve been through some crazy times in those years, haven’t we? We began with a squishy little 8lb 12 oz bundle of baby fat and a head of dark hair. You somewhat resembled an Eskimo. Of course, I don’t remember much of those early days. Apparently after i lost some of that dark hair, people called me "Charlie Brown head" because of the size of my melon (thanks by the way). I do know you put up with a lot considering the family dynamics we went through together. Lots of tears spilled on your cheeks, red eyes, runny noses.



I remember my ten year old self, unsatisfied with your smile, which I thought was too wide and showed too much gum. Your teeth, which weren’t quite the shape I wanted them to be. Your eyes, which are brown, but I wanted green or blue. Your breasts, which to my absolute horror grew before anyone else in my school class (the first to wear a bra...how embarrassing!) Your hair, which was brown and not blonde. Your freckles, which annoyed me and had no hope of being rid of. Every time I looked in the mirror at you I was disappointed at something new.



In my teen years, I did not think you to be ‘fat’, but I thought you could lose a couple inches. To have skinnier thighs that didn’t touch in the middle. To have some skinnier hips. HA! Looking back on those photos, what was I thinking? If I were any thinner I would have wasted away. Thus, that didn’t save me from comparing you to my friend’s bodies and those in magazines. Why must we do that anyway?



In my twenties, I learned to love you a bit more. I learned to like the waviness of your hair, and the brown colour. I stopped smiling in photos with a closed mouth and embraced the slightly crooked front tooth. I appreciated your hips. I even started wearing shorts, exposing your pasty white skin. Yes, people make a joke every once in awhile at your ‘transparency’, but I have learned to laugh at myself too. Really.



Remember last year when we ran that half marathon? Wow. I never ever ever in my entire life thought you could do anything like that. Gym class, you, and me never did get along. That race changed my life you know…after that I felt like I could conquer anything. Physically, mentally. So thanks for coming along for the ride.



I do believe your crowning achievement thus far has been the growth from seed form and birth of my son. You did magnificent – even when his head was stuck somewhere in that pelvis, you persevered and didn’t give out on me. Right at the last second, it seemed, when his heart rate was going up rapidly, you decided to just give it one more go and BAM! Out he came. Thanks for that, by the way. (I really didn’t want a C-section after all that effort.)



And now, here we are, twenty nine years on. When I look in the mirror, there are more tiny creases around your mouth and eyes than when I looked ten years ago. Or even five. There are way more greys sprouting through my brown hair. Those stretch marks are here to stay, and I’m okay with all that. What's the point in complaining about what we can't change? They’re more like trophies anyway. We earned those. We’ve gone through tears, laughter, birth, miscarriage, pregnancy again, ups and downs. Basically, I just want to say thanks for holding up. And I'm sorry for calling you weak, useless, stupid, and unable. I have learned so much from you. Thanks for being so forgiving and I hope we can continue to have a close relationship in the future. We're in this together, you and I. Let's do this.



Lots of love,

B

xo