A Letter to My Body

Dear Body,

I see you. I know I haven’t always treated you with the tenderness you deserve. Growing up, no one told me about good touch, bad touch, or even the simple changes you would go through. You felt like a mystery, and I didn’t always know how to honour you. As I grew older, the world around me placed such heavy expectations on you, on how you should look, on how you should please, on how you should exist for others. Sometimes, I believed them. Sometimes, I forgot that you are not an object for display, but the home of my spirit.

When I got married, the pressure on you only grew. People said things that pierced me deeply, that you should be maintained, that you should serve like a prostitute for a husband, that love was measured through your appearance. It sounded more like lust than love-making. Those words hurt us both. They made me feel ashamed of you, as though you were never enough. I hated carrying that shame, but it was too heavy to ignore. Eventually, it sank into you, and you carried the weight in the form of illness and extra pounds. You held my pain, even when I could not name it.

And then there was him, my husband, who blamed me for not being available, even though we both knew I was always there. His rejection made me look at you with suspicion, as though you were somehow lacking. But you were never lacking. You were always faithful, always present, always carrying me through.

Body, I want you to know that I am sorry for the times I treated you like an enemy. I am sorry for shrinking in front of mirrors, for measuring you against standards that were never ours to begin with. I am sorry for ignoring your whispers when you asked for rest, for compassion, for care.

But I also want you to know that I am grateful. You gave me three beautiful daughters, you held me upright in storms, you carried me through shame and heartbreak. You endured trauma, cultural pressure, and judgment, yet you kept me alive. You are not an object. You are my sanctuary, my strength, my witness, and my faithful companion.

From today, I promise to treat you with love. To rest when you ask. To nourish you with care. To move you with joy. To stand in front of the mirror with softer eyes and whisper words of gratitude. I want to remember that you are not separate from my mind and heart—you are me. And I choose to honour you, not just for how you look, but for all that you carry.

With love and tenderness,
Me