Sunday, July 15, 2012

A Love Letter to My Body

After reading a fellow blogger and former classmate's blog earlier today, and taking a note from her, I've decided to write a love letter to my body. Jade was a graduate student in my Creative Non-Fiction class and she did a presentation on writing your body and I really gained a lot of inspiration from her as a writer. It's something I've been working on - writing my body - and it is much harder than it first appeared; it is, however, a wonderful practice in finding beauty and peace where I didn't first expect to see it. Please feel free to check out Jade's blog here. I, like Jade, have decided to contribute my letter to the SheLoves synchroblog, A Love Letter to My Body. I also would encourage anyone interested to check out Lucy Grealy's book Autobiography of a Face for an exceptional example of writing the body; to read a preview of the book check this out.

So here is my love letter - I hope y'all send yourselves some love, too.

To my weathered canvas:
 I have hated you - I have hated the white lines squiggling in precarious places when the summer sun turns most of you golden.

I have painted you - I have painted you in morning regimes of lotion, in inks of various colors, in bite marks from forgotten faces.

I have mistreated the cover you provide me with. I have abhorred you, I have detested the ways in which you shake and curve in unsavory ways.
I have refused to see you in anyway.
I have refused.

To my curvaceous, unseemly flesh:
 I have tried to cover you, to contort you, to convert you.

I've picked you apart in the face of a mirror, I've wished for different skin, I've overlooked what you may bring to the world, what you may reveal to me.
I've overlooked.

To the parts that make the whole:
 The bad-mouthing began at a green age, the disdain not far behind.

But here we are -
After bumps in the road, after cracks in our surfaces, after tromping of certain organs:
Breathing, smiling, living.

I don't refuse so much,
I've overlooked less often.

I see acceptance in the horizon, instead of the rear view.
I whisper (okay) not (you can't)

Acceptance . . . okay, okay, okay.


  1. Thank you for sharing this. I loved it when you wrote 'I see acceptance in the horizon, instead of the rear view'. Just incredibly beautiful.

  2. Thank you so much, Megan! I'm honored you commented! Your blog and the synchroblog are incredibly inspirational and I'm very thankful I've found your personal blog, especially. Youre wonderful.