My Body Lets Me Have It

Consider this to be a thought experiment. If your body were a separate, sentient being, and you were simply a parasite who rode around inside of it and dictated what it did, what would your body want to say to you? I’m fairly certain mine would be rather furious.

So, what follows is my attempt to voice my body’s opinions.

“Oh, HELL no! This has got to stop. My whole life, I’ve done every single thing you’ve asked of me.

“I have run, walked, jumped, and even danced to your tune. I’ve toted that barge and lifted that freakin’ bale. I’ve even climbed up the side of a volcano for you, for cryin’ out loud! I have fought off infections, suffered broken bones, survived illness and surgeries, and subjected myself to untold numbers of indignities, all for you. For you!

“And what have I gotten in return? Abuse. Pure and simple.

“You’ve pierced me, poked me, and put me in precarious shoes. You’ve sunburned me, dehydrated me, and exposed me to toxic substances. You’ve closed my fingers in doors. You’ve crashed me into things. You’ve dressed me funny. You do stuff you know is going to make me feel worse.

 “You fill me with junk food. I don’t need it or want it, and still, in it goes! It’s like there’s this crappy food conveyor belt and you keep it piled high. Are you trying to turn my liver into foie gras?

“And do you exercise? Do you even take me for a freakin’ walk? Nooooooo… Not you. You’d rather sleep or binge-watch Star Trek. (Although I must admit, you give me plenty of rest, and then some.)

 “And where’s the appreciation after all I’ve done for you? You don’t love me. You don’t even like me. You do nothing but criticize me. You have spent half your life being ashamed of me, and picking me apart for not meeting your standards. That’s the thanks I get.

“You are a kind person. I’ve seen you be kind to others every single day. It’s time you appreciated me for all I’ve done for you, Buddy-roo. It’s time for this relationship to become a two-way street. You’d be lost without me. Where’s the freakin’ love?

body

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2 thoughts on “My Body Lets Me Have It

  1. Angiportus

    I can’t imagine mine saying much that makes any sense.
    I feed it, I take care of its other needs as best I can; I don’t let crazy people do sick perverted things to it anymore; I don’t mutilate it for someone else’s aesthetics; I wear comfortable and practical clothes and shoes–yet it still lets me down bigtime, all these decades. It still craves unhealthy food (that wasn’t MY idea), it still sleeps poorly for no clear reason and then tortures me all day; it still continues hurting after the reason to hurt is gone, like a stuck car alarm; it has come up short in so many other ways, some not fit for polite discussion, and yet people give me flak if I say anything bad about it–some of them the same people who think they have a right to criticize it themselves. I suspect it’s because I don’t blame myself, like they might be used to hearing others do, and it derails their tiny little minds. Then there’s the ones who think that if they start off by slamming their own bodies (or lifestyles), that gives them a free pass to start in on mine, and are they in for a surprise.
    But also, body talk is borrrrrrrring! It has to be done sometimes, and we both are putting some thought into it, but I look forward to your next topic…

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