I really hate to talk about my body, about aging, etc., but that’s where we’re going today. If you’re here for the dogs, pop over to Kari‘s and gMarie‘s and read about the loss of a darling girl, Lucy. It’s the hardest part of being a pet owner, saying good-bye…
Elton John’s Candle in the Wind seems about right. We’re sorry we never got to meet you, you beautiful redhead you.
So, back to my musings for today. I like to pretend it’s all good and I don’t have any body issues, and generally speaking, that’s true enough. There’s just this one, big problem that I’ve mentioned in passing before and it’s getting me in big, hairy, stinky trouble.
I’m competitive to a fault, especially when it comes to the physical. When we did the 50 yard dash in grade school, I didn’t want to be the fastest girl; I wanted to beat the boys too. Doesn’t help any at all that petite me ended up in the fire service, where I abused my body and pushed it to its limits regularly.
Luckily, I have a husband who has my number and a doctor who has been my doctor and a friend for most of my adult life. The Knight insisted that I ask the doc to look at my ankle, since I’ve turned it yet again. So… I did. And because she’s known me for ages, in her sweet, not-judgemental way, she reminded me that I’d had a VERY serious injury to that ankle years ago, and nothing is ever 100% after something like that.
So. No more trying to walk faster than I used to run as a teenager doing cross-country. No more “pushing through” just because I have a high pain threshold and it isn’t miserable. I’m prouder than I should be that I don’t look my age, but that SHOULD make me all the more willing to honor this body that has served me well, through unrealistic demands AND multiple, significant injuries.
So from here on out, at least until I need another reminder, I’m going to treat my body like the BFF it is. I’m going to pamper it when it isn’t up to par, I’m going to be nice to it, and I’m definitely going to thank it for all the years it has put up with my abuse and unrealistic expectations.
Is your body your friend? If so, do you always treat her as kindly as you treat your OTHER friends?
(What’s highly ironic is there just are no photos of my and my body-friend. Hmmm… I think it just means I’m generally the one taking the photos?!)