My Body. My Self.

You are always a perfect reflection of how I feel about myself. You have been with me through partying phases, countless miles of running, partners, pregnancy, and sexual assaults. When you ask me for food, I do not give it to you most of the time. When you ask me for rest, I tell you “rest is for the dead”. On a daily basis, I say things to you that are mainly horrible and would not even think of saying someone else. 


Maybe, at 52, I can try and be more thankful for everything you have given to me. Maybe, I can fall in love with your resilience and strength. Maybe, I can look at you and say words to nurture and make you feel loved. Maybe, I can try a different way with you. And maybe, if I can’t remember to practice this loving path everyday, you will forgive me and we can try again

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