A Love Letter to My Body

Dear body;

It’s been a whole 26 years with you and my how the time flies. Your frontal cerebral cortex is fully developed, your feet exhibit the hardened callous of a fearless festival-er and earth walker, and your hands are starting to show the wrinkles of hard use – grasping, painting, washing, and embracing. Fear not, dear body. These things are bound to happen, and more. Over our time together our feet have taken us across this beautiful country, and overseas. These arms have wrapped around countless people, combing both remarkable hellos and painful goodbyes. Our eyes have seem immeasurable beauties, including the first time we saw the ocean, our first glimpse at the golden gate bridge, the first time we bore witness to true kindness, and – of course – the first time we saw our better half. (Remember how we had to look not once, but twice? Had we met him before?) These legs have been strong, and held firm in their values. This brain has been expanded and enriched, many books, podcasts and movies later (and some binge watching of Netflix, let’s be honest) you now think about things in a different context, through another lens. This heart, dear body, this heart has been blown wide open – so many people have entered and left footprints on where a mere organ lays. Broken once, twice, too many times to count, but each time healing and proving stronger. And most importantly, you have full use of all your limbs, your digits and your senses. For that dear body, I am ever thankful.

Now in your 26th year, you’re starting to soften in ways that you didn’t really notice before. Your belly is a soft pouch where your future children will eventually lay. You have folds that reveal themselves when you move, and you carry yourself with weight – a strength that comes after years of feeling unworthy, not good enough. You have laugh lines around your mouth from years of smiling and howling, you have small, budding wrinkles between the eyebrows where you inquired or showed anger. You have dimples on your bum, ’cause it’s a big fatty area OK? You’re supposed to. And now, we’re at the point where I’m trying to treat you better. Healing food, movement, hobbies. And despite the fact that you will likely never be on the cover of Maxim, that’s ok. ‘Cause together we’ve moved through this life – this pretty badass, overwhelmingly remarkable, never-ending AMAZING life – and I couldn’t have done any of it without you. (Since we’re not at the point of uploading or conscious mind into a machine, we’re in this together man.)

So don’t ever feel down, about your limitations, or your unmet goals. We’ve walked paths that we never thought were possible. We’ve tested our limits (both in suffering and prosperity), we’ve learned SO much and we’ve moved. Danced, sang, ran, burpeed (’cause they’re fun right?) and rolled in the grass. Together we’ve done so much and we’ll do so much more, ’cause it’s just us ok? So it’s probably wise we like each other.

Your other half



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