Dear Body,
I haven’t really spoken to you in a while. Sure, we do a lot together, working, eating, and…sometimes going to my bunk; but we’ve never ever really just sat down and talked.’
I want to thank you for giving me the ability to walk, talk, grab, type, eat, sleep, relieve myself, jump, run, crawl, twitch, wink, blink, roll, hold, throw, point, write, chew, watch, hear, think, react, skip, laugh, cry, smile, frown, love, hate, drink, throw up, drink more, dance (badly), sing (really badly), pinch, poke, slap, clap, click, flick, rhyme by accident but totally love it, grin, puff up my cheeks, kick, crouch, punch, strut, sidestep, catch, drop, draw, and many other random and wonderful things.
Arms, while you’ve always been weak and flabby, thank you for putting up with recent attempts to buff you up. I mean, what would I have done without you? Lets face it, any job I’ve done has needed you guys in some capacity; from typing this here letter to dealing cards at work. You remain a crucial part of my life.
Legs, you’re both…awfully big. But, I’ve always appreciated how you get me from point A to B so easily. It’s almost as if you were made to walk.
Fingers, you’re perfect, and I’m sorry for chewing you all the time. It’s just something I do when I’m thinking or stressing; I mean no offence. I’ve been trying to quit, but you know how hard it can be to kick a habit.
Squidgy parts, thank you for hours of entertainment and pleasure; here’s to more. I just wish you were a little bigger. (cue laughter)
Neck, cut the crap; literally. I hate how much skin is under there, and I should probably try to exercise it off, but lets face it; I’m just too damn lazy. So I’ll put up with you, just as you put up with me.
I thank you, Back, for being, for the most part, hairless. If there’s one thing besides baldness that I DON’T want to inherit from my father, it’s that all the hair that went missing from his head, wound up on his back. Please don’t let this be me. Also, please stop being so ticklish.
The same goes for you stomach. I hate when someone rests their hand on you and I can’t help but writhe around in tickled agony. Also, I wish I could commit myself more to stomach crunches. You’ve gotten a little big over the years, and I want to fix this.
I thank you for somehow surviving the past twenty years with me. I know it’s been a strain, but we’ve been together so long, I’m sure we can pull through for another twenty.
I really can’t believe I’ve done this, writing a letter and all that to you, but here we are. It was fun writing it out, and even though it’s shorter than I’d expected, I’m glad it’s done.
-James
