A Letter to My Body

Dear Body of Mine,

This has been a rough year for the two of us. I openly admit that I have done some pretty terrible things. I’ve looked in the mirror and called you rude names, like Creature-Monster, Beached Whale, and Christmas Tree Orb. I have given you medications that made you feel like junk. I have worn uncomfortable, albeit fashionable, shoes just to spite you.

But you haven’t been a peach to me either. Remember how you wouldn’t sleep—not a wink—for about six days straight? Then there were the panic attacks and Emergency Room visits. Yeah, those were fun. If that weren’t cruel enough, you sometimes used your “functions” to shame me. The excessive barfing, the peeing without warning, or the… ehem… noises….

And not to point fingers or anything, but you grew very big this year. Too big, too quickly. For the last few months I have worried that an Oompa Loompa might appear out of nowhere, tip you sideways and roll you to the juicing room.

So, dear body, after all you put me through this year, all the times you made me cry, all the times you declared war on my digestive tract …

I have one thing to say to you…



You did good.

Love,
Bethany

P.S. Thanks for not getting stretch marks.