I read, marked, and inwardly digested what you-all said, bless your dear kind loving hearts, in answer to my last (deeply whiny pissy boo-hoo) post. And, do you know? I think my attitude sucks (loud cheers from the Positive Thinking Fairy, Bitter McTwisted breaks open the Jägermeister).
I am going to attempt (attempt, mind you. This could be a short post) a list of things I actually really like about my body. And then we shall cheer the fuck up and get on with our creative writing homework. OK? OK. Here goes:
- I have good teeth. OK, so one is missing and my smile is slightly skew-whiff, but the teeth themselves are hard and sharp and permanent as marble. I have not one single filling. Not one. The only tooth-ache I ever had was dentist-induced. And I lost the missing tooth to a malignant orthodontist when I was 13, not decay or gum disease. My teeth rock.
- My ears are pretty. I think I have mentioned this.
- Oh, come on, you can do better than this. What about your hair, you daft woman? Your hair is lovely. Except when it’s being a mass of split-ends and frizz, which is this month’s look of choice, for some reason. But by and large, good hair. Right? Right.
- H is madly fond of my bottom. He will no doubt go pink to the ears when he reads this, but it’s true. He assures me that, despite its ample proportions, said bottom is up there with the Rokeby Venus’s. And nothing at all like that of the Willendorf Venus. I have my doubts, but H is adamant, and anyway, I can’t get a decent back view of myself in any of the mirrors in the flat (probably a good thing) and prove him wrong. So I shall have to like my bottom.
- I can hike Alps while yattering nineteen-to-the-dozen. Under the suet, there must be some quite good muscles. A few years ago, I am quite sure there was nothing but boiled spaghetti in there. So, I like having muscles. Just don’t ask me to run anywhere.
- My clever hands, that can knit and crochet and sew and massage and slice onions to paper fineness and mend books and give massages and have such long artistic fingers (and knock coffee-mugs over and trap themselves in cupboard doors a lot, when I’m not chewing the nails to the quick, but we can’t have everything).
- We’re doing quite well, now, aren’t we? Go May!
- *Stalls abruptly*
- There’s another bit of me I like very much but I absolutely shall not talk about it in public.
- Can I go now?