The average, healthy, well-adjusted adult gets up at seven-thirty in the morning feeling just plain terrible. ~ Jean Kerr
Today I am thankful for something boring. It’s the kind of thing that only old people talk about being thankful for, which makes me think that maybe I AM an old person, even if I do still sometimes feel like a kid masquerading as a grown-up.
It’s not the weather, and it’s not a good, sturdy pair of granny panties, though I’m sure we are all grateful for those things sometimes. But it is somewhat similar.
I’m thankful for my health.
Sigh. How drab. Now I’m going to wax poetic about it. Hold on to your hats, kids.
I have my fair share of problems. More, actually — I was one of very few college students I knew who had to take pills every day, and I don’t just mean The Pill.
I was diagnosed with asthma when I was seven, and I had a bout of Lyme disease when I wasn’t much older than that, which left me with arthritis in my knees and hips. For most of my childhood, I reliably came down with bronchitis on Christmas day. I’m allergic to everything, and my post-nasal drip is more like a waterfall. My thyroid is a lazy bitch, and my ovaries don’t know when they’re supposed to produce progesterone.
This body produced the most beautiful little son in the history of beautiful little sons. It grew him from nothing but sperm and food. Furthermore, it fed him with delicious milk for more than two years. It has carried him and comforted him for his entire life, short though that has been. As far as he is concerned, kisses from this body are the best medicine.
This body is strong enough to chase a toddler all day, to walk four blocks to the grocery store and back, and to wield a sword (for strictly dramatic purposes, let me assure you). It can bend, it can dance, it can hold my loved ones close.
This body has explored Europe, trudging along hilly cobblestone streets in quest of a view. It has climbed towers (using the stairs, not King Kong style), paddled kayaks, and eaten unknown foods — because you haven’t lived until you’ve pointed to something on a foreign-language menu with no idea what you’re ordering. It has recovered from horrible hangovers, food poisoning (never from the unknown foods, though), and childbirth.
It even pulled a B in my college tumbling class, which isn’t bad for someone who regularly walks into walls.
And you know what else? This body is dead sexy.
None of that would be possible if I had a bad heart, if my arthritis was crippling, or if my asthma wasn’t under control. Maybe at some point this month I’ll also express my gratitude for modern medicine, but right now? I’m so very thankful for being encased in a body that is functional. It has not only made my life easier, but it has enabled adventures and wonderful experiences in ways that we usually don’t think about.
So now I’m going to go feed this body, since as healthy as it is, it gets angry at me when I skip breakfast. Hanger is an ugly thing, even when housed in such a phenomenal body.
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