I read this article in a magazine last week and thought it really interesting, and eye-opening to lots of women out there. Including myself. Most primarily, at this point in my life, myself.
What would you write in a letter addressed to your body.
Yes, your body.
It had to be an honest letter. No excuses, no messing around. Just the plain, hard and truthful facts you’d want to share with your body and tell it, if you could.
Mine would go something like this:
I’ve lived with you for the past 31+ years. We never really had a truly loving relationship. During the course of the years there have been periods when I was really happy with you, other times where I just loathed you. Hated you even. If I were to be truly honest with myself, I know it’s not your fault. It all stems out from my lack of any willpower. For I have none. None at all. But blaming you for it all, is much easier.
Aesthetically speaking, there are parts of you which I do love. I love my small upper half. I never truly minded not having the biggest bust in town. It started to be an issue with me when I was growing up and seeing all my friends’ boobies grow while mine seemed to be stuck at the same size and shape from when I was 12. But I grew out of that phase and learnt to accept my small booblets. When days come when I wish for a bigger bust, I help you dear body, by wearing what A calls my chicken fillets. They’re reliable and most importantly, just a temporary fix.
I was never happy with my lower half. My thighs to be precise. For whenever I dieted, my face and upper half always took the toll, whilst my stubborn thighs remained as is. Having a small bust and big thighs spells disproportion, which is what I just hate. Then I discovered Spanx, which are a god-send on certain days when looking at you in a mirror is a tough feat.
I loved what pregnancy did to you. You were an absolute rock and I loved being pregnant. I remember waiting eagerly for your shape to change, for you to start showing the pregnant roundness I so wanted round my tummy area. And when you did at around five months in the pregnancy, I could not show you off enough! I marvelled at your elasticity and at your tenacity during the latter part of pregnancy. And as for labour itself, you surprised me to say the least. You helped me into facing what I was most scared of, and we both came off with flying colours.
Post-pregnancy and I am not liking you again. I helped you gain around 20kg during pregnancy, most of which is gone, but these last six kg do not want to budge. Not one bit. I am happy that my upper half is back to normal, though on certain days I do miss the cleavage that breastfeeding gave me. You fit perfectly into my nursing bras. Yet now they are a size too big But my tummy area right down to my knees are unrecognizable. I detest seeing myself in a mirror, and am desperate to get you back in shape. Shopping for myself is no longer fun, so I just shop for Cesca, resulting into many items of clothing she will only wear once, IF we’re lucky in that! I want to get you back into shape for Christmas. I want to discover will-power, find it and use it. Please help me in any way you can!
I don’t want you to become stick-thin. I don’t think you would look that good. But having you in my pre-pregnancy shape would be perfect.
Not that you ought to because truth be told, I have abused on certain instances. I have tried every diet known to mankind, some worked, others did not. The most absurd diet we tried must have been the Atkins diet, where I could honestly hear you crying out to me to stop with that nonsense, but I went on. Until you gave me a stern warning in the form of dizziness and black spells, and then I stopped. Because of that ridiculous diet, you do not accept avocado in any shape or form. And I totally understand, because who in their right minds, would stuff you with it, fried, as a breakfast, every day for a whole fortnight?
On the whole you have been great. You haven’t become ill too often, you’re quite resilient and overall quite healthy for which I am totally grateful.
Now if only things would improve on the aesthetic-side of it all…
Keep up the great work dear body. And I promise to start some serious work of my own.