The letters series: MY BODY

Dear body,

I feel like I owe you an apology. You have always been so strong and solidly there for me, but mostly I’ve just been a bitch.

All through my childhood I was super healthy and strong, thanks to you. But then during my teenage years I started not liking you very much. There was no good reason for this except that you refused to just wake up one day looking something like Cindy Crawford. (Apparently having the hair and eye colour and the mole near my mouth wasn’t good enough.) It seemed like nothing you did offer me was good enough or what I wanted then. Even though I was skinny I never thought I was thin enough, and those boobs you decided to spring on me? Well, not so much what a fourteen year old girl wants even though I eventually came to like them. The height that I thought was too tall? Also good now, even though I hated being what I thought was too tall back then.

It was with my first pregnancy that you really started showing off. After a GP told me I would have trouble conceiving, you shocked me sideways when I ended up pregnant within two months of my wedding. You did saddle me with some heavy duty nausea (SEVEN MONTHS of it, remember?), but of course the pregnancy flew and that came to an end before I knew it.

I have to say that you didn’t really seem to have your shit together when it came time to give birth that first time, but you made up for it by growing me a big healthy baby. Before I knew it you sprung another pregnancy on me just a couple of months later, but like a trouper you once again rose to the challenge. It was the best pregnancy, not a minute of nausea and not much weight gain {9 kg’s for a 4.3 kg baby}. And this time when the birth rolled around you knew exactly what to do. The recovery this time round was swift and we did it all again a few years later when you gave me my precious baby girl.

With my last baby you proved how amazing you really are. I was ten years older (and tired-er), and you helped me grow and carry yet another big healthy baby boy. You also granted me my secret wish of repeating labour number two, which was an eerie carbon copy. Those few hours, in the middle of the night as a storm blew outside and rain fell against the windows, are possibly my favourite hours in my whole life. For the first time ever I felt such a deep awe and appreciation for what you were capable of. Those dark hours it was just me and you, alone in the whole universe, rocking and breathing and panting a new soul into the world.

I’m ashamed to say that it wasn’t long before you came under my harsh and unforgiving glare again. I have spent most of the years since that transformative night despairing at the sight of you. No amount of weight shifted has ever managed to reveal that Cindy Crawford physique even though I’m old enough to know how much work that really takes. And when it comes down to it, when enjoying time spent eating and drinking with family is weighed against time spent berating myself {and you} for not being naturally perfect, I just don’t care about my jelly belly, bingo arms, and cellulite all that much.

And all those fucking ridiculous ideas of beauty? The tweezing, waxing, high heels, super tight girdles and shapewear. Ugh. From starvation to shakes to Hypoxi to gyms to every weight loss program and product ever invented, I have punished you with all of it.

All I have to do is think back to the darkest days I ever endured, over a decade ago at this exact time of year, when words like lymphoma and chemo were being thrown at me like stakes being plunged into my heart, and we waited on a knife edge for the biopsy results that would determine exactly how merry our Christmas that year was going to be. Getting the all clear, the news that you, my body, while definitely acting a bit weird, were in fact perfectly healthy, was everything.

So maybe you really are a bit perfect.

Without you being as strong and awesome as you are I wouldn’t be able to look after my family. Without you I could never have undertaken the huge challenge of running my own cafe. Without you I wouldn’t be able to so fiercely hug the people I love or be able to cook them all those meals that shows them all how much I love them. Without you being as fucking amazing as you are I wouldn’t have had those four big fat babies I had. And without you being so pillowy my cat wouldn’t have anywhere to snuggle her own fat butt every evening.

So thank you, body. And I’m sorry for all the shit I dump on you.



  1. YAAAAAAS! Beautiful! So timely as I went to see the documentary Embrace again last night. Have you seen it? A must for all women (all PEOPLE) – so eye opening 🙂 xo


    1. No I haven’t, I’ll have to track it down. Xxx


  2. I love this Ana! Only I wanted to be Elle! Shame that I think my entire height is about the length of her leg!!! (I am not that short 165cms) And Boobs I seriously missed out on those too but the truth is that even after three babies my boobs are still pretty perky it helps there is no weight at all to defy gravity lol ..


    1. We’re the same height and there we were dreaming of being amazons! Too funny. And yes, the weight to gravity thing isn’t kind, lol. I remember when Elle checked herself in at some clinic for depression, and I remember thinking what the bloody hell do YOU have to be depressed about. I know now that it doesn’t work that way, and tbh even Candy Crawford looks her age these days. All’s well that ends well I suppose.


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