So much going on, lots and lots to write about, and I am thinking about body stuff. Yup. In the midst of all this nutso-amazing head and heart business that fills my life, I am consistently aware of my physical self. Today, for instance, I am dripping and sneezing with a bout of my first-ever allergies! I am belly-grumbling hungry (a good thing to experience every now and again), sleep-deprived weary and conscious of the pleasant light and air in this room. And I am super aware of my tight pants...

This tight pants thing. For lots of reasons, I am too-often concerned by my butt, my hips, my "thunder thighs". I am aware of them now, in a relatively mushy phase of my life, and was aware of them two summers ago when I was sickly thin. It is from culture, yeah; we learn early on that being pretty and thin is 'good.' And it is from growing up in a family that sometimes fixates unhealthily on eating. For me it's an identity thing, too; I have always been string-bean, willowy Amy: super-model tall and thin and able to maintain it as I age.

Now, after a year of sitting and reading and writing, I have the soft beginnings of love handles, and my arms look a bit like my aunts'. When I lean back in my chair, there is a sweet little resting-place for my folded arms. My summertime clothes are a bit snug. But, surprisingly, this 'filling out' makes me smile! I have been running, too. I have a solidity and strength and stamina now that's different than before. I walk miles every day to school and back. This body o' mine gets things done.