I genuinely appreciate my body for the strong, capable, BEAUTIFUL vessel, instrument, and gift it truly is, was, and will be.

When I was little, I was LITTLE.  I’d get sick easily and often.  Grown-ups could encircle my waist between two hands—thumbs to thumbs and pointers to pointers.  Words like “wormy,” “dried-up,” and “teeny” were dropped at my feet like dead mice from the mouth of a well-meaning cat, an offering left to change my habits, motivation to “fill out.”  

When I was big, I was BIG.  Husky jeans with hobbit-y inseams were a wardrobe staple.  Sweet Mom took me around to e.v.e.r.y. shop in the state of Alabama advertising solutions for hard-to-fit feet to find the ONE pair of Buster Brown saddle oxfords that were as wide as they were long.  I HATED them.  But the family dropped a small fortune on them, so they were worn, not wasted; more shackle than shoe, every time I laced ‘em up, I could hear a salesperson’s nervous titter or exasperated knee slap as they squeezed my sausage toes into that metal sizer device to find—YET AGAIN—that the slides didn’t open THAT far.  

I’ve struggled with a LOT of ugly emotions because of these situations growing up—envy, embarrassment, shame.  I put off a lotta life waiting to be thinner, fitter.  More.  Less.  And I realized pretty recently that was a whole lotta time and effort wasted.  

Gone.  Over NOTHIN’.  

Never again.  I’m not wasting another minute lamenting the body that was, the ghosts it left behind.  I celebrate my body that is, what I can do with it, how I can work to make it “better,” by MY definition and mine alone.  At ANY age, this form isn’t guaranteed good health or strength, but while it lasts, I will be enjoying it to the FULLEST, both in its excesses and its scarcities.  

If you’ve had similar struggles in the past or are totin’ that monkey on your back at present, I see you.  Sendin’ you a hug that circles you a couple o’ times or barely makes it all the way ‘round, depending on who you are.  

LOOOOOOOVE that body.  Please.  For its delicious leanness or all its glorious fecundity, love it.  

Love y’all.