A letter of apology to my stomach:
Today, I started my regular self-hate against you, my stomach, as I tried, and failed, to fit into my shorts from last summer.
As I was berating you verbally, by calling you “gross, fat stomach,” I noticed that my arms were circled around, in a loving and firm embrace, my stomach.
At that moment, I cried and realized how much verbal and emotional damage I have inflicted on myself and, most importantly, to you, my wonderful, strong, resilient body that has kept me alive after numerous attacks.
I cried and I held you, my stomach, and repeated, “thank you. thank you. thank you” for what felt like hours.
See, the thing about my stomach is, yes, right now is fat, scarred, and not at all ready for belly shirts. But that’s because you, my stomach, have been fighting wars for me for the last 13 years!
So, instead of berating myself, I will give a public apology to my stomach, one of the strongest members of the ShaRhonda military. Stomach, I am so sorry for being so damn selfish and unappreciative of ALL you have done to keep alive.
So, right now, I want to thank you, my stomach, for a handful of the following ways you have loved and saved me.
Thank you for:
Healing after hernia surgery when I was 9.
Tolerating 5x daily needle/catheter injections if Zofran for the entirety of BOTH pregnancies (almost 20 months of daily stomach injections of medication).
Tolerating years of multiple doses of strong medication that not only caused extreme weight gain and extreme weight loss but also caused permanent damage to my organs.
Enduring FIVE surgeries of the past 5 months with multiple doctors trying to figure out why I kept having internal fluid cyst collections.
Surviving THREE surgeries in the past year due to my fibroid issues and two, yup, two different hysterectomy surgeries.
Tolerated an INSANE amount of medication every day. Currently, I am taking 9 pills daily that all have serious side effects to my stomach and gastro system. But I need to take them to live, so instead, I decided to put the cost of medication on my stomach.
For giving me two beautiful children, and one angel baby, when I had already put you through so much abuse and I knew the pregnancies would push you past your level of health.
For every “gut message” you gave me about a person, place, or person that turned out to be correct.
For not totally revoluting on me, after you told me that you can not handle dairy, and yet, I keep on with ice cream.
For being so soft and comforting, that you are the first thing I hold when I am emotionally hurt.
I know apologies mean nothing, without changed behavior. I promise, my stomach, and my body, I will try to be more loving and grateful to you for the ways you have, and do, save me.
I love you and I’m trying to do better.