|Let's keep exploring the world together, shall we? |
I think it's worth it.
Well, this is awkward.
Sometimes I talk about you, knowing you’re listening, but I rarely talk directly to you. Except in the “Seriously! Today?” sort of way.
If we lived on an isolated land without any others, I’m sure we’d get along great. Because, haven’t you heard, comparison is the thief of joy. Let’s try and stop doing that, shall we?
Sorry I’m somewhat of a klutz: breaking you, bumping you, and bruising you almost daily. But you’re tough. Thanks for that.
Not only are you tough, but you’re also strong. Stronger than I give you credit for, due to my self-diagnosed low-sports-self-esteem. I say you’re uncoordinated, but really I’m usually just too scared to try. When I let go, and ignore those thoughts of comparison and what-might-other-people-think, usually we do ok, you and me. We did climb a mountain together, you know.
I’m trying to take care of you, so we can grow old together. I’ll try to save bacon for the very special moments, and feed you more vegetables. But I don’t think I’ll be giving up ice cream anytime soon. Let's go running and biking and to jazzericse to dance our heart out. I’ll wear sunscreen when I’m at the lake, even though I really want a glowing tan.
I’m kind of fond of that little line on my nose that I made from wiping my snotty, allergy-afflicted nose as a kid. I giggle when I see that weird scar on my ring finger that I got from shucking corn. I'm glad I have a round, Finnish face to remind me I'm quite a lot like my mom.
I especially love that little freckle on the little toe of my right foot. It’s my favorite.
I promise to embrace my curves, love my laugh, and try to speak (and think) only nice things about you. Not because I’m stuck with you, but because we’re in this together.
I'm joining other women who are writing love letters to their bodies over at SheLoves Magazine's synchroblog. Now, go write your own.