Dear arms of mine, I’m sorry for those moments I’ve looked at you and thought ‘Too fat’ or ‘Not buff enough’ or ‘Oh shit, I have tuckshop lady arms*’. Thank you for allowing me to hold the ones I love, to cradle babes, to lift heavy things…
Dear legs of mine, I’m sorry for calling you ‘stumpy’ and ‘fat’. Thank you for taking me places… for taking me on wild, wild adventures… one step at a time. Thank you for holding me up, for being strong even when I am not.
Dear breasts, oh dear breasts… I owe you such incredible apologies. I’m so incredibly sorry for using you as objects… As ways and means to manipulate my way into men’s beds and minds. I’m so sorry for putting so much pressure on you to validate my ‘sex appeal’. I’m sorry for habitually disrespecting you as sacred parts of my femininity. Thank you for still being here. Thank you for being here in abundance! (Ha!) Please stay.** Please be here so that I may nurture and comfort my future children… Please stay, that I may always honour this adventure of being a woman, in all its changing forms.
Sweet face of mine… I’m sorry for constantly, constantly judging you. For picking and poking and prodding and ‘concealing’ you. Thank you for showing the depth of me, for the joy and wisdom in my eyes and the love on my lips…
Dear body of mine, dear miraculously sensual body of mine, what amazing adventures we are constantly in the midst of. A million times ‘Sorry’ for all my moments of disrespect and non-appreciation. Infinite ‘Thank you’s for getting me here in sensory, capable wholeness. I look at you, I feel you, I explore you in awe. There is such potential for growth and healing and beauty and love here… With this body I love the world. I am so incredibly grateful.
With this body I love the world and the love of the world is made known to me.
*If you’re not Australian and you don’t get that, Google it.
** The cancer that eventually riddled my mother’s body started as breast cancer. I will not create that.