I promise to end the love/hate relationship with the way I look.

Dear Body,  
 I’m writing to you to say I’m sorry. You have copped a major hammering over the years. Honestly, you could take yourself off to a home for battered bodies, on account of the physical and emotional abuse you have endured.
  Oh sure, I’ve never cut you, starved you or shoved heroin into you. But there’s something pretty ugly about constantly comparing you and always finding you wanting. Slimmer, more sculpted, wider-eyed, smaller-nosed, longer legs, less freckly, less spotted, less wrinkled, less….just less, freakin’ less of you. Especially you, flabby stomach – you’ve ruined my life.
  For a very long time, I thought I was the only one criticizing you for your shortfalls. As it turns out, we’re all at it. A new study has revealed that 85 per cent of us are our own worst beauty critic. One in four of us would surgically upholster or deflate our boobs and 40 per cent regard a bit of a nip, tuck and suck as the best way to “improve body confidence”. Ha! I bet you’re glad I’m such a wuss about pain.
  Anyway, you’ve patiently soldiered on for over thirty years now, so it’s time we made our peace. Here goes: sorry for the years I tortured you in the gym and rewarded you with half a cup of yoghurt and a bunch of steamed spinach. And apologies for drinking a Bloody Mary and a Cosmopolitan and believing that they made up five fruit and veg (2 x tomato, 2 x celery, and 1 x lime). There’s more: the cellulite massage (panel-beating at its least effective), and the watercress soup diet (oh joy!).
  The truth is, you’ve done me proud. Haven’t we achieved some stuff? The strength you gave me to endure those long hours before finally arriving at Rome Airport where I was whisked away to hospital to have my troublesome appendix removed, the school running carnivals and races that you endured as a child in primary school.
  Body, at worst, I’ve treated you with cruelty and disrespect. At best, I’ve taken you for granted. I should have been awed by your strength, resilience and amazingness. Take my heart – beat, beat, beat. It never misses.
  You’ll eventually succumb one day (May it be many decades from now!), but until then I promise to appreciate and honour all that you are and all that you do.

 With love, M.

PS: I’ll try harder to remember the fish oil.