I’m calling a truce. I no longer want to be at war with you. We’ve known each other for 25 years and we’ve been through so much together. You’ve been there for me when my mind convinced me not to like you. For that, I’m sorry.
You carried me through puberty. I loathed you with every stretch mark, as you reshaped me. I’m sorry that I refused to stand tall or embrace the bloom that was taking place. When my hips and boobs came in, I thought it was the beginning of the end.
I’m sorry I let other people’s opinion of you change how I saw you. It’s my opinion of you that counts.
You looked after me through chickenpox. Helped me recover from IBS. Took the brunt of a broken wrist and bouts of tonsilitis. You made sure I got up after every fall. Helped me find my breath through every panic attack. You’re a warrior, but I never gave you credit, some days I still don’t.
But I want you to know I’m trying. Trying to undo all the years of hatred whenever I looked in the mirror. To love you the way you should be loved.
Thanks for letting me run, dance and sing. For letting me work, laugh and read. Thank you for every magical moment I have been able to live and witness. For grounding me through the difficult spells and never allowing me to give up. Thank you for giving me arms that can embrace in the tightest of hugs. For allowing me to be myself for the very first time.
Body, you have been my soul’s home for the past 25 years, and I’m so thankful to love so strongly and feel so deeply. Thanks for sticking with me, I promise I have big plans for us.