Dear Body,

I kind of hate you a little bit right now. I've been doing the best I can to take care of you by feeding you and walking you to work and cleaning you on occasion. That being said, I expected a little more out of you. I understand, times are hard. But I don't care! That's supposed to be my excuse!

Body, we've been through it all together. I'm just asking you to meet me half way on this one. Fine, get sick. I'll put up with that. I'll give you tea and keep you warm. You can even have a pimple or two. But for the love of God, stop bleeding. A nice lady-doctor put me on a medication that she thought would be strong enough to set you straight. But no, body, no. You had to be stronger. So, after three months, each only allowing me a one week break, I called that nice lady-doctor back. And do you know what she did, Body? She put me on a stronger version of that tiny pill that seems to be defenseless against your insolence. But I have to wait for three more weeks to see if it'll do any good.

So Body, I don't think I'm asking very much when I'm asking you to stop. Please, just this once, cooperate. I'll keep feeding you. I swear I'll shower more regularly if that's what you want. I'll even shave my legs and wear shorts if that's what it will take to get you to behave. I will. I'll do it. For you. Because that's the kind of person I am. If this plea doesn't do it, I will turn to threats. Make me love you, Body. The world doesn't need one more woman out there who hates her body. Be the Body I know you can be. Be the Body I can love. Thanks for listening. I know you're tired. You and me, we're in this alone together. Or whatever.

Sincerely,

Theresa.