A Letter to My Body

Dear Body,

I apologize for neglecting you all these years. We had a good thing going there for a while. You remember that don’t you? I know it’s been a while. When my Dad left us, he took our self-esteem with him. I started to not really care about you. I’m sorry for that, but I had a lot on my mind.

I should have been honest with you, but instead I soothed my pain with food. It made me feel better. You did not.

I did a good job of ignoring you during high school. Sure when your thighs rubbed together during gym class I hated you for it, and when I tried on bathing suits with our Mom I loathed you. “Why can’t I have a two piece Mom?” She didn’t have the heart to tell me. You knew all along though, didn’t you? For the most part I avoided thinking about you. I wanted to think of anything but you.

Sure, people have tried to warn me about what you would become if I continued to ignore you. I’m sorry to say I didn’t listen to them. I wish I had, because now you’ve grown into something I cannot control on my own.

I want you to be healthy and strong. I want you to match the inside of me and I want you to be something I’m proud of. I want to honor God with you, for you are my temple and the Holy Spirit dwells in you. I repent for being careless with you and not giving you the respect you deserve.

“Do you not know that your body is a Temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.” (1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

I pray that God will give me the strength and self-control to get you back in shape. I have the desire for it and I promise you I will win this battle with His help. I want to fall in love with you again.

I’ve made great strides over the past month and half with you. You’ve noticed haven’t you? The numbers on the scale have been going down and when I look at you in the mirror I see you getting smaller. These days you make me smile.

Finally, I am so deeply sorry for making you wear stonewashed “mom” jeans in the early 90’s. You should have told me!




Ps: Stop asking me for cookies.