Day 53: 10 things I like about my body

I’ve decided to think good thoughts instead of discouraging thoughts about my health and body this week (see day 52). Being a born and, at this point, highly skilled pessimist/critic, this has been harder than you’d think. Starting with, I’ve struggled with what to think positive thoughts ABOUT. So I’m just going to start with the obvious thing: the body that I’ve been modifying (or perhaps abusing, depending on your POV) for the past 53 days.

I actually had a really hard time with this list for 2 silly reasons: first, every time I started on it, I heard a chorus of faceless 8^th grade mean girls snidely saying, “Oh, so you LIKE your body? You think it’s a GOOD body?” And then snickering with their mean-girl friends. Yes, that’s the way girls are. Boys too, at that age. No wonder half the 13 year-olds in the country are on a diet. And even a decade later, I am absolutely programmed not to say anything good about my own body.

The second was, I put a lot of pressure on myself to come up with ten items. There’s no magic in ten. Except for stupid David Letterman and his stupid top 10 lists making us all feel like we have to meet that same expectation.

Ten things I really like about my body

1.       It’s been really good to me despite all the neglect and abuse I’ve put it through. I have no chronic diseases, have had no serious injuries, have no ongoing pain. Other than its absolute refusal to get pregnant, it has served me better than I probably deserve

2.       My hair.  Every hairdresser I’ve ever had has described it as “fine, but lots of it”. That’s a good combination. I hear other women complain about how their hair is too curly, too frizzy, won’t grow, has cowlicks. No problem here; my hair grows so fast that I have to get it colored every 4 weeks or I look like a skunk.

3.       My knees. 50% of people my age apparently have chronic knee problems. My partner has had them since he was in his 20s. I have days (and even weeks, when I first start working out) where they hurt, but overall, they’re really good knees. And that’s a good thing, because bad knees are crippling. I’ve seen it many times. My ex-husband had a knee injury in his teens that plagues him to this day. Good knees are a great thing.

4.       My hands. I have giant man-hands. They’re bigger than most guys I know, even when the guys themselves are taller than I am. I’m weirdly proud of my huge, strong, capable man-hands.

5.       My natural flexibility. My joints just aren’t put together like other people’s. I can literally bend my thumb across the back of my hand and touch the knuckle of my middle finger with it, like this (you might not want to click the link if weird body stuff freaks you out). I found out a few years back that this is a genetic condition that is also, oddly, related to anxiety (check). In fact, it can be a dangerous condition. But in my case, it’s mostly been fun. Being able to put my feet behind my ears has been a cool party trick for years. Also, I think flexibility is one of the keys to aging well; it makes falls less likely, arthritis less likely, etc.

6.       My skin. Last year, a doctor offered me free filler or free botox for coming into his office. I literally couldn’t find anything that needed filling or botoxing. I took a raincheck, ‘cause I know it will happen, but when I look at people my age who’ve spent a lot of time in the sun vs. my own skin? I’ll take mine, please.

7.       My curves. I was a painfully skinny child. I seriously looked like someone with an eating disorder. I hated it. Now I’m heavier than I’d like to be, but I kinda love the curvy part. It’s a hedonistic overabundance, like a cornucopia. You know you can’t eat everything there, but it’s pleasing to know that there’s more than you can handle. And the smartboy seems to like it, too.

8.       My nose. It’s way too small for my face. It’s puggy and Victorian. It’s awesome. One of my friends recently told me that she’s getting surgery to get my nose. For real.

9.       It anchors me to the now. My mind always seems to be rambling in past or racing into the future. My body is only here and only now. It can’t live anywhere else. It’s where I come when I want to be present.

10.   This is going to seem like a cop out, but #10 isn’t fit for public consumption. Let’s just leave it at, I am blessed in certain ways that I missed out on in my youth, and it’s a big deal now. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. But there is a 10. I swear.