I’m a little late to this, but Wednesday was Love Your Body Day. Rather than do the usual post about my struggle to accept my body because it’s not a size 2, let me tell you why I love my body:

I love my body because it can type this sentence on the keyboard.

I love my body because it can tell my friends and family I love them using my own voice.

I love my body because it can walk across a room, street, block, and keep going a while before I get really tired.

I love my body because it can bend down and smell the roses in my garden.

I love my body because it can climb stairs.

I love my body because it can sit upright in a chair, recliner and couch. It can also get in and out of those things without assistance.

I love my body because it can swallow food and liquids (including Diet Coke!) without aspirating.

I love my body because it can read magazines, books and computer screens.

I love my body because it can hug people.

I love my body because it can brush my teeth, wash my face and do other fun stuff like that.

I love my body because it can play with this awesome Super-Soaker I got for my birthday this year.

And finally, on a serious note, I love my body because it can breathe on its own and my heart is healthy.

Four and a half years ago, my body couldn’t do any of these things. I laid in an ICU, paralyzed from the neck down. I was on an ventilator and had cardiomyopathy. They were considering a pacemaker. I couldn’t move anything above my neck. I couldn’t speak or swallow. They didn’t know if I would live, let alone walk again. I am lucky to be alive. I am lucky that I am able to experience each new day. I am beyond lucky that I am able to experience these things I listed above every day. The simple act of typing, of moving my fingers because my brain tells them to is nothing short of a miracle. I try very hard not to take that for granted.

That’s why I love my body.
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