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Dear body please slow down
Friday July 4 2008
By Tessie Lagtapon, Thinking Out Loud
By Tessie Lagtapon
 
In the fall of 2007, Dove (the soap) had a contest.
They invited ladies ages 45 and up to write letters to their bodies.  At the time of the contest they were looking to cast three more women in a play about women. I took inventory of myself and came up with an entry letter. This letter and 39 others were chosen among two thousand entries.
Dear Body:
Look at you…you’re not looking too bad considering the six decades and three cents (this week) you’ve been through. In fact, you are looking great, a little on the heavy side, but what the heck!
Remember the time I was so ashamed of you? You had scars on your stomach and legs from some kind of tropical skin ulcers. Nanay (bless her soul) couldn’t figure out why you had them, because if she had her way, no fly would have touched you.
She was so proud of you and you reveled in your voluptuous figure. You looked good in sexy tops with the wide-gaping necklines you chose to wear. But now, your trip down south is unstoppable. Pretty soon my bra straps would be hanging from your ears. Please slow down.
When the first two kids came, my late mother in law would say.
“Eat…you’re eating for two.”
Her words absolved my penchant for food. Sure, the calcium you consumed from all the seafood you ate helped my kids’ bones and teeth grow strong, but the fat and carbohydrates you paired them with got stuck in the middle, giving permanent residency to two Michelin tires. Most of the time, you carry them around fully inflated.  
Body, you took it all in without complaints. When the last two humans came to inhabit you, you blossomed…and you hadn’t stopped since.
“You’re fat, Mom.” My kids say.
“That’s OK. I am happy in my skin.”
The lines on your face did not get there by accident. They are the laughter, the worries, the anger, the sorrow that kept me together through the years. I am grateful that the laughter lines are numerous.
Eyebrows, the years of questioning the motives of my family have penciled you just the way I want them.
Lips, you’re blessed with Nature’s own Collagen.
Neck, I can only hold you up so high for so long. If I have to look like a turkey, please fold over gracefully.
Arms…I’ve always thought you sprouted wings. I was wrong. They are actually rippling jelly beans pretending to be muscles.
My Nanay used to bring attention to your ever widening backside. I’ve been in denial for so long. But you know what?  The truth has set me free…you’re there to cushion me when I have my grandchildren on my lap.
Legs, you’re the only one that hasn’t gone anywhere.  Minor folds around your knees are hanging tight. Cellulite looked past you and found others to cling to because of the years I’ve covered you in pants.  Now, barring the cold winters of Canada, you will be displayed under colourful skirts and preened in high heels….lower back and gout permitting.
    Body, I must admit, you’re wearing well.
Sincerely,
Tessie

My session with my body was therapeutic; beats any psychotherapist. I recommend it to everyone.
We were called to Toronto to audition. We were fed. We were pep-talked.  We were nervous.  Marketing, advertising and production personnel of Dove were in the shadows…notepads in hand. A camera was rolling.
The smell of the theatre brought back memories of long ago. I did my reading and a few other exercises with the ladies.  Then I waited the long week for the verdict.
Writing obviously becomes me.