~ Dear Body ~

"Write a letter to your body" said the good people at Dove.

And so I did.

It was cathartic, really, telling my body how I felt, expressing my regret, my anger, my shame. We've reached an understanding, my body and I - we have agreed not to give up on one another, we have each agreed to accept one another as we are....warts and all. Yeah. You could say we now accept one another unconditionally.

At last.

It wasn’t always so.

I have spent most of my life feeling my cheeks were too fat, my thighs were too thick, my hips were too broad, my chins were too plentiful. It’s a shame, really. Wouldn’t it have been lovely if I had come to accept my physical self when it was in better condition that it is now? Wouldn’t it have been lovely if I had appreciated my thinner self, my healthier self, my stronger self?

Ah, well....

.:shrug:.

I’m smarter now.

At last.

I love Dove's Real Beauty campaign. I love that they are promoting ordinary women, ordinary girls; that they are celebrating aging, honouring wrinkles, lauding grey hair. Good on ‘em, I say! They’re casting a play, auditioning women over the age of 45. I’m too young, but auditioned anyway. No harm, no foul, eh?

So that's the reason I wrote a letter to my body, you see. “Dear Body….”

Yeah. Ü Here’s how to find the Dove site: http://www.dove.ca/home/ Check it out!

Someone asked on a message board today if we would consider having plastic surgery done.

Hmmm…

Here’s my response:

Would I consider having plastic surgery done? No, I wouldn't. Why not? Because older faces, mature faces, lined and wrinkled faces are beautiful, they are graceful, they are elegant. Are there things about my face and body that I don't like? Sure! Would I change them? Not a chance. I look the way I look because I've earned it - I have earned the fine lines, I have earned the sagginess around my jowls, I have earned the stretch marks, I have earned the potty tummy, I have earned the crepe-like skin on my hands. All those hours of sitting in the weather watching my kids' soccer practices, all those hours of sitting in the cold watching my kids' hockey games, all those nights sitting up worrying and praying over sick babies, all those days sewing sequins to dance costumes....they are written on my skin. Every pie I have made, every pursing of my lips for a kiss, every gale of laughter, every frown of disapproval, every stifled giggle, every walk in the wind, every snowman made.....they are all written on my skin.

While I spend my days writing, on paper, things for others to read, my days are busy writing my life on my face, my life is writing my story on my body.

Who am I to change the tale?