It reminded me that though it is far from perfect, it has served me (for the most part) pretty well. Thinking of PJ's post about self esteem, I actually composed a poem to my body as I lay there in bliss. I don't remember most of it, but it went something like this.
Feet, you have withstood so much pain in order to fit into sexy heels, been bruised by careless people, misplaced items or the wheel under my bed. But you carried me on and on. You ached and complained, but you did your
Legs, when my lungs wanted to quit, you did not. You carried me through miles of cement and miles of trails, you carried me 10 km to the finish line without seizing, without tiring. You have more power than I ever gave you credit for. You were born to dance, to move, to run, to strut, to jump.
Arms, I've thrown you up in despair and down in surrender. You've held other people's babies, and groceries, and hope and leashes and lovers and friends. Parts of you are waving more than I care to admit, but you are strong and would never let a friend down.
Shoulders, knotted deeply with stress, but you have carried your burdens as
best as you can. You still look good in with nothing but a shawl around you.
Back, still smooth and soft, you let me know from time to time when I am
not taking care of you. You crave strength and discipline, you have
allowed me to live my life with grace and dignity. You are courage and
perseverance, wisdom and solitude.
Hubby is noticing my weight loss, and compliments and encourages me. But you know what, that's nice, but I wonder at what point do the compliments become actions? When do I become worthy of his affections? How do I stay open to that possibility? This is so weird, but I will continue to try and stay connected, to stay focused on what I truly need to be happy.