A letter to my never again

By | 16 August 2019

Dear body,

To my never again once lithe, dimple-free body,
to the now double chin and lumpy-dough thighs,
to the now flabby arms that were once toned and athletic,
the never-again flat tummy and the distinct outline of muscle from
hundreds of hours of yoga,
to the never again lustrous hair that used to shine with streaks of furious red and brown,
now thinning and confoundingly grey

To my never again eyes that used to be free from the astigmatism that now renders me half-blind,
to the conspiracy of incoherent globs that appear where once firmness stood,
now inchoate with fright,
to the night and day, day and night flushes that give new meaning to the word sweat
——the sweat which used to act like a sexy sheen on your body and my body
and together we slithered in glorious afterglows of love and its making——
for now sweat sits in puddles under the folds of my neck and on the lines between my bra
and bulging belly,
to the aches that suddenly appear in the hip after a jog,
to the painful soles of feet that ache with a dull knowing
to the creaking knee joints and shoulder joints that seem to need oiling
to waking up some mornings to feel that everything just hangs——
yes, you are bag of hanging things, of things hanging on for a dear life

To the many pills I now have to take,
and the bottles that accompany me on my travels——
DHEA, GABA, 5HTP, melatonin, Vitamin D, estrogen and progesterone creams,
spirulina, milk thistle, calcium, glucosamine——
to the never again ease of sleep
to the never again joy of gratuitous slumber
and to the reality of the word, jowl

Dear body,
I am sorry I used to punish you in ways that were brutal
to the starvation, the flagellation of the self and soul
to the guilt of mastication, and the horror of food
to the persecution of punishing exercise regimes
and the sick satisfaction of pain

To my never-again once liver, perhaps now fatty
due to this sometimes alcoholic predisposition
to my browbeaten lungs from years of nicotine
to my heart, liver and spleen, to whom I have
sometimes deprived kindness

To my uterus, ovaries, cervix and vagina who serviced in the
production of my two daughters, for the gift of a natural birth,
for the children that I will have, never again,
to my breasts who gave milk, who could manufacture milk,
who rendered me like a dairy farm, a cow-like disposition,
with the largess of nipple and fully-functioning mammary glands
to the perpetual sick that ailed me during pregnancy, to the
bile that was created in my belly, every day, every hour for
40 weeks, to that stinging, bitter, yellow bile,
to the insides of toilet bowls, to that, never again

To the aches in the neck, shoulder and elbow
that seem to consistently curse when the writing needs to be done
to the tingling in the fingers,
bites of electrical charges that still course
through the nerves,
to the litres of tired blood, all that thick,
glutinous glorious crimson to never again flow in between thighs,
to the cramping of muscles, that hard grip of pain reminding you that
it is again, that time of the month, of that the moon cycle
which will never again feature,
to the ovary that emits an egg every month,
that swollen pain, that urge that makes wet of cunt, of coition, of acts
never again

Dear body
Thank you for staying with me——
despite my discontent,
my want to conquer those blobs of unquiet goodness,
the scars that have traversed two divorces
the unholy nights on the floor, screaming out the weight of all my grief
the suffering, the soils of love, in spite of all this
you have stayed, still,
to never again harbor certain reckless passings
never again

The body is kind, it remembers,
it forgives, it is wise
it is brave, valiant, virtuous,
never again will I curse you, berate you, subjugate you,
for the body is good,
it is always good.


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