I have been trying to lose weight...well...my whole life. Sometimes I succeed. Most of the time I don't. This constant battle with my body is such a source of frustration! I often find myself looking at this body of mine and feeling hatred, repulsion, and resignation. I go through phases of thinking, "That's it! I'll just be fat the rest of my life!".
I suppose one could say my thought processes are unhealthy. Well, I agree. And this is where my latest thought process regarding this problematic body of mine has taken me.
So here it is. I have a body. And that body is far from perfect. I am no size 2...or 4...or 10. And chances are pretty good that I never will be.
Well, so be it.
I have a body. It is imperfectly shaped (pear-shaped in fact!), but it is strong and capable. It is chubbier than it should be, but it is whole and healthy.
This body of mine is some kind of amazing. It can heal itself. It can defeat disease and infection. It can protect itself. It can heat itself. It can nourish itself in order to survive. It can perform and compete. It can reproduce. It can communicate its needs.
I have a body. On this body I have a face. It is not perfectly symmetrical or shaped, but it is beautiful. It has two eyes that can see sunsets and read touching words. It has two ears that can revel in inspiring music and perk at the sound of my husband driving in from work. It has a nose that can detect dangerous smells (like smoke or even worse: Poopy diapers) or delight in delicious scents (like fresh-baked bread and fresh-bathed babies). It has a mouth that can grin with enthusiasm and lips that can kiss little tear-stained cheeks. I have two cheeks. Chubby they may be, but those cheeks can blush with emotion or elate in the sensation of human touch when my husband kisses them.
I have two arms. They come complete with floppy Church Lady wings, but they also have the ability to hug, lead music, swim, and snuggle kids.
I have two hands. Hands that are rather large and always dry and cracked. But, I have two hands that can work and serve. They can knead bread dough, sort laundry, type school papers, clean, make thank you cards, paint, hold little hands, scratch my husband's itches, and play guitar.
I have a tummy. No matter how I try to flatten it, that tummy remains much rounder than I like it to be. But that tummy has been round three times with a sweet growing child inside.
I have two legs. They have varicose veins, cellulite, and other unsightly sights, but those legs can sway to music, run in a 5K, carry me through the grocery store, take me to the top of a mountain, and get me to the bathroom when duty calls.
I have two feet and they are humongous; much too big to fit into cute girly shoes. I have two humongous feet that tap to the beat of a great tune, keep me balanced and upright, moosh sinister bugs, and slam down on the brake pedal in my car to keep my family safe.
I have a body. It is an incredible thing to have. There are many out there who do much more and complain much less with bodies that are twisted and incapacitated by disease and defect. There are spirits out there who never even got to have one.
So, I think I can make peace with this body in spite of its imperfections because it is some body. And what I choose to do with it makes me Somebody.
guest post by Evelyn Perkins of The Perks of Life