Two sides to a story....

Dear body,

I fucking hate you.  I hate how after a weekend of working outside and running and walking and refusing what I really wanted to eat for something more healthy that you have “rewarded” me by a weight gain of 4 pounds since Saturday.

I hate your disgusting thighs and how so much extra skin hangs down that it looks like you have elephant legs.  I hate your flabby ass. 

I hate the stretch marks covering your stomach.

I hate the dark scar that goes all the way around your body.

I hate your extremely tiny boobs and square shape that makes you look like a brick.  I hate that you are so short.

I hate that you will never have been and never will be pretty.


Dear Body,

I fucking love you.

I love how, even after years of obesity and inactivity, that you now can run half marathons - and in pretty decent time!

I love your strong muscles and how you can carry and push heavy objects without needing help from anyone.

I love that you are forgiving and that if I eat right the weight should come back down within a few days.

I love that although you scar badly, that you heal fast and made it through a major surgery without complications.

Although you may never win any beauty contests, I love that for a woman about to turn 42 that you look pretty good.

I love your healthy nails and teeth and hair and your smooth skin.

I love that every scar on your body tells a story from an event in your life - like falling off your bike at age 10.