I know it has been a long time since we’ve really talked. So here I am, writing this letter, hoping to bury the hatchet. The truth is, you are like my 1989 Toyota Camry: not much to look at, but you get me where I’m going. Now don’t be offended- I love my car. And you have to admit, the similarities are astonishing. You sort of peaked as well in 1989. Think about it. Puberty hit after that, and well, the less we say about that the better.
The exterior is a dull grey with scratches, and a little rust. Although I wouldn’t go so far as to say your complexion is grey, you are a bit pasty and splotched yourself. Speaking of complexion, what is up with having acne and wrinkles at the same time? Could you not make your mind to take the full leap into adulthood or what? Really. It’s embarrassing. Choose a side, for the love of pete.
But back to my car comparison…Despite a few mechanical problems over the years, my car has been extremely reliable. I could say the same for you. You work fine. However, you do have moments of embarrasing, um, gas leaks and digestion problems. However, they are never acute enough to stop me. Nope. They are, once again, simply embarrassing.
The station wagon also has a bulbous rear end. So do you, dear body! Despite my many attempts to slim you down (I know, I know, this part is my fault-emotional eating and what not) the spacious back area and middle seem to persist. I think it is time we just said it like it is. You are no Alfa Romeo, body. You are a station wagon.
Last but not least, body, I would like to say that as I appreciate having a reliable car, I appreciate you. The way you popped out those two beautiful girls was awe-inspiring. I won’t go as far as to say pain-free, but you cut it short, and for that I am forever indebted. Of course, I have a coral reef for a stomach and it looks like a forest is growing on my legs I have so many stretch marks, but I guess one can’t have everything in life. I also appreciate the fact that you rarely get sick and that you allow me to run as much as I do without breaking down. I know I have put a lot of mileage on you in the last few years, so thanks for still working.
In conclusion, I propose a truce with the following terms:
I vow to stop putting you down. I am sorry for all the mean jokes I have made at your expense. I will cease and desist immediately. I will try to sleep more and eat less oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. You are a station wagon not a mini-van. More green vegetables, more baths and maybe I’ll even do some stretching after my runs.
You, for your part, could work on the digestion issue. I would also appreciate it if you cut out the pimples. I am getting grey hair and wrinkles- I think it’s time the acne stops. And if possible, could you stop holding on to everything I eat? People are asking me if I am pregnant and it is a long winded to go through the explanation that I just went through here…Let it go, body, let it go. I know that you are hard wired to defend yourself against starvation, but trust me, we won’t starve.
What do you think? Can we begin the negotations?
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Me or yourself or….god this is confusing….