Dear You, This is your Body speaking. What in the world were you thinking? It started about the third week in November. Were you trying to set the world record for how many different ways you could shove turkey down my throat? And if that wasn’t enough, you had to top it off with greasy stuffing, candied yams, and pumpkin pie drowning in whipped cream. And you wondered why I was out of sorts. And what’s this with putting me on an eighteen hour a day schedule? Did you think it’s fun to have the weight of the world shoved on my shoulders? “Shop ’til you drop” is not my motto.

You expected me to put up with your mother coming to stay, my Aunt Tilly and Uncle Bill dropping by for two days, and Uncle Ornish’s motor home being out in front? I tried to go to work to escape, but everybody there seemed to be going through the same thing. And then there were the THE holidays. All that food, all those sweets, all those toasts, all those parties. I thought you were my friend. You promised to take care of me last year. You even bought a treadmill and started taking me to a feng shui class. Remember? You kept telling everyone the physical and mental are tied together. What is good for one is good for the other. Your number one New Year’s resolution was to work on a better you.

Then came the trash talking. You made a commitment not to make negative comments about others, only to “find the good in each individual.” Mrs. Jones has been in therapy for 6 months for that comment you made to her. You don’t refer to her as “aesthetically challenged” just because it is politically correct. “I was only joking,” did not come across as a sincere apology. Of course I gave you guilt. You deserved it. You should have been ashamed of yourself. If you don’t change soon, I’m going on strike. I’m going to start with your back going out. If that doesn’t work, I’m going to give you an ulcer. If that’s not enough, I’ll give you high cholesterol and arthritis. I’ll take away your short-term memory, make your skin break out, your hair fall out, your eyes worse, and your clothes not fit. So, listen. A word to the wise is supposed to be sufficient. You better start taking better care of me, or there are going to be some tough times ahead. You’d better start thinking about the NEW YOU. And it better be a whole lot better than the OLD YOU. I still love you anyway. After all, you’re all I’ve got.

Love, Your Body

(C)Copyright Yellen & Associates 2009. All rights reserved.

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