You don't have to be my Giving Tree anymore. You are so resilient. I know how I neglected you, how I caused you to suffer. Oh, sweet body.
How I've caused you to suffer.
When I was afraid I overfed you, when I was stressed and overwhelmed. You graciously contained my pain. Your complaints, considering, were minimal.
Where did I begin to neglect your needs? When I was a small child? My head hung low and my shoulders rounded as I walked in tiny steps in my little world, in defiance of my mother saying, "Stand up straight!" Even then I grieved, what I cannot say. You bore my girlish sorrow. You are strong.
What about when I was abused? Just because I loved a man enough to die for him. And he would have let me, die at his own hands. Mercy, Jesus! Body, you are exquisite!
And I allowed you to be battered, bruised until no uninjured skin remained save the bottom of my feet. You took the blows and tried to shield my soul. You tried to save me, though salvation wasn't your job. You are wise beyond my comprehension.
He weighed me everyday, unsatisfied until I wasted away to 89 pounds. And when I grew so hungry I binged on epic quantities of food, and vomited so he would not catch and hurt me. You protected me, though I hurt you. You even protected the child I carried. Precious you, you kept me through anorexia and bulimia.
I love you with all my heart. Your wild and holy tattoos, your curly/nappy hair, your greeting strands, brown eyes and generous mouth. I love your crooked teeth and warm smile. I love your working hands, your thunder thighs and wide stomach, stretch mark dimpled stomach. I love your scars. There are so many.
Forgive me. You are free now. I release you to good life.
Fly free in this big world, this gorgeous God drenched world. It all belongs to you. Yes! It's yours. It all belongs to you, dear.
At long last.