Dear Body,

We’ve been together now for almost 34 years. Well I guess over 34 years if you count the time we spent as a fetus. We’ve had our good times and our bad. Sometimes I’m mean to you. Sometimes you’re mean to me.

First, it was my eyes. One day I was minding my own business in the first grade. Next thing I know I could barely see the chalkboard (you know, back when we still had chalkboards instead of dry erase boards or Powerpoint presentations). Now one eye is -4.0 and the other is -5.25. Until I got contacts in high school I was saddled with those ugly, very thick glasses. I’m still bitter about it to this day.

In high school I got you back when I started to cutting. I usually cut my hands because I wanted to be able to see it when I was done. But then I covered up the sores with band-aids and excuses because I was ashamed. Thank God you got my brain involved as a mediator and nixed that bad habit.

Then I tried to drown you in alcohol. In my depression that was teenagerhood I actually attempted to become an alcoholic. I figured it would be easy since I have a family history of alcoholism. But, thankfully, you blessed me with a non-addictive personality and the alcoholic bug never stuck.

And yet I still wouldn’t listen. All those times you were there for me and I still treated you badly. I started filling my body with all kinds of crap. Tons and tons of Mt. Dew. As much greasy food as I could find. Whatever sugary candy caught my fancy. I just stuffed it all in. I’m so sorry for that, body. I really am.

But you got me back after Skyler & Spencer were born. I escaped my pregnancy with Keaton without stretch marks. I wasn’t so lucky with the twins. I came out of the pregnancy with stretch marks on my belly. On my legs. And on my boobs. Seriously, body? My boobs? You couldn’t throw me a bone there?

And since we’re on the subject of boobs… Remember when my boobs were all perky and nice. They were never big, but at least they could salute when they saw an officer and a gentleman. At least I didn’t have to tuck them in to my pants each morning. Have you heard that song “If your boobs hang low, can you tie them in a bow?” Well, body. We’re there. We’re practically tying them up like a shoelace these days.

Oh, and on the subject of tucking things in to my pants, what’s with the twin skin? What’s this crap hanging over my belt. It used to be so tight and firm. Now I can’t even find my belly button most days. Now I have to wear a tankini instead of a bikini. I miss my bikinis, body.

If that wasn’t enough, just a few months after the twins were born I was rushed to emergency surgery because my appendix was on the verge of bursting. To add insult to injury, I started my period while I was dry heaving at the hospital and I didn’t bring any feminine products. Luckily I was too delirious from pain to be embarrassed about it though.

But you weren’t done. No you had just begun. Just before my thirties you decided to give me a little asthma. You basically just spat in my face and yelled “how do you like them apples?” I gotta say I don’t like them. Not at all. Especially when I couldn’t walk the four blocks to my car after work without having to stop to catch my breath. Or when I had to go to the ER for breathing treatments. Not fun. Not fun at all. And I really could have done without that asthma test at the hospital. I swear that woman was trying to kill me.

Oh, but you were just warming up. In November 2001 you decided to bless me with hundreds of polyps in my nose. So many polyps that, not only was I suffering through cold after cold after cold, but I also lost my sense of smell. You have no idea how important the sense of smell is. All the foods I used to love started to taste like crap. Some of those loves have never returned. I used to have an unhealthy infatuation with peanut butter. Now I could take it or leave it. And Pringles. Oh how I loved Pringles. Now? Not so much. [Although I have found a new love for Lays potato chips in a can. In fact my mouth is watering now just thinking about them.]

So I started to think you meant business. And maybe I should be a little nicer to you. I cut out caffeine. It’s been over a year since I drank any caffeine. And I’m trying to eat more vegetables. I’ve even started eating breakfast. All for you. That’s how much I love you.

I admit, I’ve been slacking on the exercise front. I get all in to it and then I get sick and slip out of my routine. But, body, I promise I’ll get back to a regular routine. I swear.

Apparently you don’t believe me though, because you have retaliated with extreme fatigue. You heard what the doctor said Wednesday. If this new [expensive] medicine doesn’t work we’ll have to go to a sleep doctor. You don’t want to go to a sleep doctor, do you? Aren’t you sick and tired of doctor’s poking and prodding at you? I know I am.

So let’s make a deal. I promise to hit the treadmill at least three times a week and get back to my weight workouts if you’ll give me back my energy. Is it a deal?

With all my love,
Christine

This is my submission to BlogHer’s Letter to My Body initiative

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 1st, 2008 at 11:26 am and is filed under It's All About Me. Comments are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.