By JO HARTLEY
Dear Body,
I am writing to you as I have waited for as long as possible but, now feel, that the time has come for us to have words. I have noticed of late that you are truly starting to show your age.
While I am trying my hardest to maintain and keep you in working order (and admittedly reverse some of the damage and pressure I have put on your over the years), it would appear that you don’t always want to abide by the same rules and often chose to defy me by doing the opposite of that which I want you to do.
Legs, take the other day for example when I wanted you quite simply to run up a couple of hills without stopping. Could you do that for me? No! All those years that you merrily danced away on table tops and busted your moves on dance floors for hours on end without even thinking about it now certainly seem to be memories of a distant past. Memories that have since been replaced with aches and pains, not to mention a jelly like resistance to anything that may require you to have a little bit of strength and stamina for more than 30 seconds!
And, as for you lungs on that very same day… I swear you threw your little hands up, constricting and holding me back the minute that you saw the road started to climb, waving your little white flag in surrender.
I do understand your stubbornness however. I guess that is your way of payback for years of me filling you with smoke as opposed to fresh air isn’t it? And I would agree, why should you suddenly give back when I have taken so much from you?
Now, Bum I figured that out of everyone you would be one of the last to let me down (quite literally). Yet, I can’t help but notice that recently your uplifted self has been replaced with a more deflated persona and it’s certainly not one that I like to carry around with me.