Monday, February 8, 2010

Guest Post: Momalom

Hi Readers! I am so proud, excited, get the bring you Sarah from Momalom today!

I'm guest posting with a letter to my hideous, decrepit old body over there today, so Sarah decided to reciprocate with a letter to HER firm little 31 year-old body. Sarah, you whippersnapper. Quit whining, beeyotch. I jest. Sort of.


A Letter to My Body in its 31st Year

Dear Body,
In honor of Love It Up and the gushy month of February I was hoping to write you a love letter and send along some roses. But after I read Kitch’s letter to her 40-year-old body I decided to get real. I shall not mince words. It’s not my style, Body, you should know that by now. Let’s be honest, you gave me Mouth and I know how to use it. You do everything you can to protect Mind and must have some sense of what’s going on up there. So here it is:

You’re making me cranky. I can’t look in the mirror these days and I am growing to resent you. I know we’ve been through a lot and I have some blame in that, but maybe if we just air the dirty laundry I will feel better about punishing you in my “no-love letter.” I’m okay with admitting my faults if you are.

I hereby apologize for the following:

The tattoo. I branded you. Yes I did. It’s there; it’s bold; it can’t be hidden. I was young and dumb and didn’t think about your needs and wants at all. I know this. Let’s get over this one together, it’s gonna be a long life.

The drugs. It was a long road for both of us. There were good times and there were bad, but in the end it put us right where we were supposed to be, in the arms of a man I love dearly and an accidental pregnancy that turned my entire life around. Let the past pass and let’s live without shame.

The children. I know you are exhausted and worn thin. Your entire being aches and creaks and cries for rest. I know you cannot feel your feet some days and wonder if you are walking on air. I know that wrestling with the baby through another diaper change seems like reason enough to give up. But you have a weakness and that weakness brought children. I expect you to take a modicum of responsibility for this.

The little things.
I don’t take you for a run or get you a massage nearly as often as I should. I know this. I am sorry. I leave red toenail polish to wither and die with no promise to replace it until Spring. I’m sorry. I keep you up late and get you up early. I feed you too much and too little and all the wrong type of foods. I call you names and try to hide you under the sheets. Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Now let’s move on to you:

For issues regarding Hair, Skin, Ass and Libido, please see details HERE:. And by gosh by golly you best read them carefully.

For issues regarding Breasts, Stomach, Thighs, and Energy, please know this: You punished both of us by bearing such large children. How you couldn’t know that a 10-pound baby would deliver irreversible stretch marks is beyond me. How you could think I would ever bounce back from that pregnancy and the subsequent births of two nearly 9-pound babies, I do not know. How you can live with yourself knowing how my breasts have reshaped into no shape at all, and how my ass longs to be admired as the ass it once was, I will never understand. You have punished us both, dear body, and I’m not pleased at all. You cannot blame me for the children; you know your weakness was the sex. You are completely at fault for your need to fulfill Desire.

You plead with me to treat you well—to feed you right and work you out daily. However, I need you to dangle a carrot—the promise of a happier self and a stronger body—because at this point my attempts seem futile. I no longer want to be in battle; I want to believe that you will respond to the work I put in. Genetics tell me different. I see glimpses of Future Body at my local Starbucks and she is not exactly what I have in mind. Can we make a pact to work together?

Please know I do not expect you to become Elasta-Girl. But I do expect you to want to want this as much as I do. I will wake you up early and I will bring Ass to the gym if you can give me a glimmer of hope that Ass will be slipping out of her pants by the end of the month.

I do love you, Body. I will try to treat you better. I want to work hard for you and make our life better. Let’s give this a shot. And let me stress that time is of the essence. I await your reply.



  1. Can I send this letter to my body? It works for me too.

  2. Awesome! If I write one to my body, am I really expected to go through with my promises of eating right and exercise?!

  3. ha ha! This is wicked! A very witty, wonderful and true piece of writing! :) xxx

  4. Ahh, Sarah. I love the way in which you capture the fundamental nature/nurture truth of all of our bodies: some things we are born with; some things we choose. And what a poweful place we could get to if we could, as you do here, come to accept the former, while embracing the latter with forgiveness, wisdom, and strength.

  5. Absolutely love this. The humor. The humility. All of it. Of course you have your big dork of a friend thinking about Descartes' posited mind-body distinction, but that is neither here nor there :)

    Elasta-Girl? If only!

  6. Letters to body parts and/or whole bodies rock. This is hilarious but also so real, Sarah. Love that balance.

  7. I think my body needs that same talking too.

  8. Love this! Wish there were some way to be happy with the current state of our bodies at any point in time- it always gets worse from here.

  9. I loved the part about glimpses of Future Body at Starbucks!

  10. I don't know very many people who LOVE their body. I think we could each write letters with similar sentiments.

    Sarah, this letter once again reminded me of how much you make me think and smile. You capture the essence of life-- the wonderful and the sucky.

  11. Dear 31 Year Old Body,

    If I had known 5 years later my body would be betraying me with a joint disease I would have done so much more. I would have climbed more mountains, danced harder, walked more miles, biked that long bike trail, back packed through Europe, worn my high heels, hand wrote more letters, written a novel, learned to knit or play the guitar, and so much more before I wouldn't be able to do those things any more. If I had known all of this I would have done so much more.


    P.S. I also would have started using anti-wrinkle cream much sooner.

  12. Excellent posts ladies. Sarah, thank you for sharing yourself with us here via TKW.

  13. I am currently awaiting a reply, too.
    I'm trying to make good on my body-specific resolutions, but like TKW, I am starting to doubt my body's "generosity of spirit."
    I probably should have known better to kick it all off with a regimen whose title includes the word "shred."
    And more seriously: yes, let's live without same. Let's do.

  14. This is so good! I can relate to every single word of this post! Sad!:D

  15. I'd like to send my body a Dear John letter.

  16. Great guest post!
    Writing to my body would be a useless task. It hasn't been speaking to me for years.

  17. Ha, this is the best!!! Maybe I should write to my body, too. I feel like my stretch marks are its way of saying "don't EVER do that to me again." Perhaps an apology is in order?

  18. Ok, Sarah's 31-year-old-Body...please get together with my 37-year-old Body for cocktails and find out what the fuck is up with the saggy neck skin. Where did it come from, why is it here, and tell it to go the fuck home.

  19. Oh that Liz, she knows how to get right to the heart of things. Because seriously neck skin, GO AWAY!

  20. I was going to write something VERY similar to what Liz wrote above so I'll just say, "What she said". We can have the two 37 year olds hanging with the 31 year old boozing it up to forget our woes of our sagginess. I'm mostly struggling with the jiggle under my arm when I blow dry my hair. But I solved the problem, not by going to the gym but by never drying my hair anymore. And There You Go.

  21. And my 48 year old body NOW - yes, not when I had the six kids but now - stretch marks and Liz's neck issue. What do we do?

    Love the sentiments, Sarah!!! Your body loves you and will come back!

  22. "I leave red toenail polish to wither and die with no promise to replace it until Spring. I’m sorry."

    Do your toes have any idea how lucky they are that you apologized? My toes would kill to be attached to a person who cared enough to do that.