What Makes My Body Great

I like how well my body functions, but sometimes I'm annoyed that I don't look ready for a magazine cover. When someone says, "she's got a great body!" I have to assume they're talking purely one aesthetic. Right? We're not talking functioning GI tract, not talking strength of leg or arm, not talking reflexes or grace, just how she looks in one frozen moment. I have to say, I'm not satisfied with being able to look good frozen in time. I want to have a great body in lots of ways!

Don't misunderstand me. I like a lot of my photo-ready aesthetic. I like the shape of my feet, and how dainty my hands are. I like the curve of my waist and the angle of my nose. But what I love most about my body is that I'm not in pain. I can do everything I need to do every day - what a good gift!

The moments when I don't like my body are usually in dressing rooms. I see myself as if I were on the cover of a crude magazine: red arrows each pointing to different sections of me with a mini article on what I should do to improve. I decided to re-write those mini articles by thinking of my body in motion, not stagnant on a magazine cover.

Fat
In the winter, I sit with my feet on radiators, and read, and keep hot drinks close to my lips. In the winter, I don't hurry. I barely move out from under thick covers. I let another layer of fat build up, and look at it with discouragement, because I have no will to work it away.

In the summer, I get faster and stronger. I lose the winter layer, and run for miles starting at high noon, to feel the sun, to make sure it sinks deep into my pores. Then I sit in the evening, perhaps with you.

Hair
I like my hair long because it is like a mysterious curtain. Sometimes after I wash it, I will go two days without brushing it. I like my hair short because it draws back the curtain, revealing something about my personality.

Three months ago, I found my first grey hair. A few weeks ago, I found that the one hair had several friends. I guess this will continue until I die.

Short
I like my height. I can fit into buses in Honduras. I can make my sitting desk into a standing desk by using two textbooks for my keyboard. I can stand on the stairs, and still find people to look in the eye. Sometimes, I can even find jeans that fit me if they are marked "short."

Skin
In my mid-twenties, I have lots of wrinkles when I talk or laugh. In the winter, my translucent skin can look sickly if I don't sleep enough. My eyes will look red-rimmed in their shadowy sockets.

In the summer, the sun covers my face in freckles. Those freckles close in, giving me a Scottish tan.

Strong and Well
I have gone all winter without getting sick. I have walked without growing weary, lifted boxes without strain. I sleep deeply, and dream about what I'm reading. I can breathe slowly and deliberately and find myself at rest.