Dear Body, I’m Sorry for Hating You

Dear Body,

I’m not sure how to write this letter. We’re not exactly good at communicating with each other, you and I. I guess I should start by apologizing to you for that.

So, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. I’m sorry for the times I spoke badly about you, using you as the punchline to a joke while I secretly meant what I said. I’m sorry for the times I punished you for not being what I wanted you to be, what I had been told you should be. I’m sorry for wishing you were smaller. And I’m sorry for starving you and cutting you and punishing you in an attempt to fit a false vision. I’m sorry for seeing you as a mistake, an error, something to be fixed and hidden. I’m sorry for hating you, for hating you so much that I couldn’t see anything else. The years of self-harm and bingeing and purging and restricting and pinching and squeezing and poking and prodding and slapping and burning – I’m sorry for all of it.

You deserve better. I deserve better.

I’m not sure exactly when I learned that I should hate you. But somewhere along the line, you became my enemy. It wasn’t your fault. You were just doing what biology was telling you to do — when I wanted to die, you were doing your best to keep me alive and I resented you for it. I resented you for every pound, every zit, every stretch mark, every wayward hair, every roll and sag and bump. I was told a lie, a lie that said my body wasn’t supposed to have those things, and I believed it. I’m sorry that I believed it. I’m sorry that I believed it so deeply that I became convinced that the only way to be happy was to make you disappear. I’m sorry I believed that in order for me to be something more, you had to be something less.

I wish I could promise that I won’t do it anymore. That from now on, I will love and appreciate you for everything you do for me. That I will feel grateful for the jiggle in my strong thighs. That I’ll hug my round stomach and I won’t look at someone else’s body and wish that you looked more like them. But that’s not realistic. You and me, we live in a society that wants me to hate you and it’s hard to resist that message some days. It’s hard to love your shape when I’m told that your shape makes you – and, by extension, me – ugly, disgusting, lazy and unloveable. It’s hard to love you when I’m told that you are a direct reflection of who I am as a person, and if I were just more determined, more controlled, more virtuous, you could be better. It’s hard to love you when I’m told that you are a flaw and that I am flawed for having you.

So, I can’t make that promise. I can’t promise that I will always speak to you kindly or treat you gently or celebrate you readily. But here’s what I can promise: I will try. I will try to be a little kinder to you. I will try to challenge the narratives telling me that you are too much, or not enough. I will try to to resist the urge to torture you for things that are not your fault. I will try to forgive you for not being what I want you to be. I will try to nourish you with food and kind words and good thoughts. I will try to love you a little better than I did the day before, and a little better the day after.

And I will try to be gentle with myself on days where I can’t do those things. I will try to be gentle with myself in those times where loving you feels impossible and selfish. I will try, I will try, I will try.

It’s an uphill battle. But we’re in it together.



If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, you can call the National Eating Disorders Association Helpline at 1-800-931-2237.

If you struggle with self-harm and you need support right now, call the crisis hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “START” to 741-741. For a list of ways to cope with self-harm urges, click here.

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