a letter to my body

visit the Letter to My Body Project at BlogHer

Dear Body,

I’ve written to you, about you, before, but I know it’s always nice to get something in the mail. 

Let’s get this out of the way first: eighteen months ago you scared the hell out of me with that whole heart thing.  It took several abnormal EKGs, an eyebrow raising echocardiogram, a long weekend in the cardiac unit and, finally, a totally normal nuclear stress test, for the doctors to shrug their shoulders and tell us that the weird heart thing is just how we’re put together.   Probably always been that way, with the bottom part of this heart (yes, I’m talking to you) not marching quite in time.

A year ago, to the very day, we got onto a plane and flew over the Atlantic ocean.  Thank you for not dying of fright right on the spot, and thank you for actually relaxing and watching the sun come up over Greenland with me.  I always thought we were too claustrophobic to fly so far (over an ocean!) but you simply rolled your eyes, thinking, What the hell took you so long?  Thank you for the continued sensual memories of Barcelona; how the old cobblestones felt underfoot, the smell of the market, the sound of the church bells in the background of that delicious feeling of waking up in the hotel in the morning with the whole day stretched out ahead of us.  I forgive you for the ten straight hours of barfing while we were stuck in Heathrow.   I know that there’s only so much you can do about the stomach flu.

Also a year ago, not quite to the day, we finally committed to yoga after years of flirting and flaking.   I am so grateful.  As wonderful as it’s been for you, body, it’s probably done me, the brain in your skull, the most good.  I see you in such a kinder light than I ever thought possible, and even when you are standing in class next to an impossibly beautiful young girl, I feel right at home and comfortable in you.  That is a miraculous gift for someone like me who’s made an art form of how to define feeling inferior.   And yesterday?  When I finally let go of being afraid of it, you went right into a headstand (on the third try) and stayed up there.  First time even getting our ass up in the air (yay, ass!), and suddenly it all came together and legs? you didn’t even need that wall, did you?  Doing that headstand drop kicked you and me both into a hyper-happy and goofy state for the rest of the day.  We got a little bit of enlightenment, thanks to you.   

And, finally, to all those parts that I am still struggling to love (Eyelids, can I just take a moment to point out the fact that you have years and years of service left?  Please reverse your saggy, pebbly, tissue paper ways and chill out for a few more years.), I am getting there.  I may never love you like you deserve, but I’m trying and most days I think we are getting closer to a workable living arrangement.

I’d keep at it, but unfortunately you are telling me that you need to sleep.  Now. 

I love you.

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