This Body
a letter
From now until the end of January we will be bombarded with content about weight loss “lose half a stone before Christmas” and “Lose those Christmas pounds” “Drop inches” “This workout will give you a body like Jennifer Aniston/Sydney Sweeney/Kylie Jenner (delete or replace with any celebrity we are told we are meant to aspire to look like), but what if we all decided to do something radical and appreciate what our bodies do over what they look like.
Like a lot of people I’ve at times in the past had a complicated relationship with my body and have found myself wishing for bits to be smaller, firmer, bigger etc without appreciating my body beyond the aesthetic, but as I get older and stronger (lifting heavier weights) that’s changed, so with this in mind I decided to write to my body.
Dear Body
Firstly, sorry for the times that I have spoken badly about you. Criticised your appearance, moaned about what you can and can’t do, and overlooked all the great things you do for me day by day.
So, I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for the lungs that keep me breathing, for the belly that I have criticised, whatever size it has been for carrying my beautiful boy into the world. Thanks to my legs that have walked me around various places in the world, enabled me to climb big hills and mountains, and have kept me grounded when my mind has felt anything but. Thank you to my strong arms that allow me to lift and move things and enable me to still scoop my son up for a cuddle, even though he is 10 and nearly as tall as me. Thank you for continuing even when I have treated you badly through alcohol, lack of sleep, and overwork. Thank you to my heart that has continued to beat even when I have thought it is broken beyond repair.
You have carried me through joy and grief, love and loss, boredom and excitement, calm and chaos. You have held memories in your muscles, scars on your skin, and resilience in ways I’m still learning to understand.
Love from
Me x
We are taught, explicitly, to view our bodies as projects. As things to fix, shrink, sculpt, or control. We’re encouraged to wage war on them, particularly at this time of year, when indulgence is framed as failure, and rest is treated as something to “make up for” later.
But our bodies are not trends. They are not before-and-after photos. They are not worthy only when they take up less space.
They are living records of where we’ve been. Of what we’ve survived. Of what we’ve loved.
When I shift my focus away from critique and towards appreciation, something changes. My body stops feeling like an enemy and starts feeling like a friend, imperfect and resilient.
So if you are tempted to make any resolutions or set any goals for 2026, I’d advise you to make them for your body.
Maybe promise that you will try to listen more and punish less. Or that you will move because it feels good, not because you hate how you look. That you will rest when you can.
And that you will speak to your body with more kindness, not because of what it looks like, but because of everything it has carried you through.
Remember, our bodies are not ornaments to be judged, but they are the shells that hold us, and we have to live within them for this one wild, fleeting life, and life is much easier when living in a place of love rather than disdain.