A Love Letter to my Body

It's been a while, hasn't it? I haven't been spending as much time on the internet and stepped away from blogging. It was getting volatile, but I think I've found a balance now.

I didn't know how to come back out of the blue. But I guess this is as good a time as any and as good a reason as any. SheLoves Magazine is hosting a synchroblog challenging everyone to write a love letter to their own body. It's scary, and a bit weird, but I'm on board. I'm here and I'm saying it and that's all that matters.

Dear Body,

I am here to tell you that I love you. It is first and foremost and true. It is important.  

You are loved. 

Perhaps you didn't always feel that way, and I'm sorry. I should have stood up for you when you were young and growing and needed support. When your skin wasn't as tan as I thought it should be, or when your hair didn't look like those girls in the magazines, or when your legs refused to grow any taller, or when catty girls said unkind words out of insecurity, or when that boy at camp told you that you were pretty, except for your nose. I should have told you that you were perfect. But I didn't know that then, did I?

You are perfect.

I know it now. I embrace it. You are perfect because you are mine. You are made for me and me alone. You are my one and only. For all the imperfections the world may see, I will strive to see none of them. Because I only have one body. This is it. And it is enough.

No, you are more than enough.

You have shown me a strength I didn't know existed within me. While I lay gripping the sides of that hospital bed, twenty-one hours in and no strength left, and they told me to push and I screamed "I can't," you did, and you brought him into this world screaming and perfect and alive. You did that. You carried me through illness and countless miles and bringing my child into this world.

You have carried life.

It was a hard journey before and during and after. You were tired, and I was frustrated. But you healed and grew strong and all the while you kept him alive. Those breasts which are no longer perky and unmarred and that stomach which is no longer lean and young are reminders of your sacrifice. You have nurtured and loved in a way only my flesh can, and it is beautiful.

You are beautiful.

And I cannot tell you enough. I cannot thank you enough.  

Thank you. 

I love you and this is my vow: 

I promise I will care for you as you have cared for me. I promise I will be gentle with you as we grow older, that I will always remember what you have done for me through the years. I will remember your strength and power when they are no more, and I will respect you. I will treat you well and we will enjoy our years in stride. We will take this journey through life together, and I will trust that you and I are exactly where we need to be. Together we will be unstoppable. Because you are perfect.

And I won't ever forget it.

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