use it or LOSE IT.

I am of the belief that I existed before I was born.  I had a unique personality, varying interests, a foundation of knowledge, and a network of relationships; I was a distinct individual before I was born just the same as I am today.  I believe it is this way for everyone.  

The difference between Kristen Gibb then and Kristen Gibb now is the day of January 11th, 1989.  It was on that day that I was born and gained a simply marvellous contraption: my body.

Made of 206 bones, 639 muscles, and 60,000 miles of blood vessels, bodies are miraculous inventions.  My own 6'0" tall, 155 lbs. body has story-telling scars, size 10 feet, and a bump on the right middle finger from holding pens too tight.  It also has weak ankles from multiple sprains, poor-ish posture, and a blister on the left pinkie toe from wearing shoes that were too small.  My body is now a little over 22 years old and I'm beginning to realize that I exist as a soul with a body, not a body with a soul.  

When I think back over the years I've shared with my body I can recall times when it has been the bane of my existence and the host of exceeding happiness.  My body has been blamed for some of my lowest lows and celebrated with during some of my greatest achievements.  Through thick and thin, no matter what I do or where I go, my body is the siamese twin of my spirit, and it's going to be here with me until it's planted six feet under.  So I guess that leaves me with a choice.  To be friends, or not to be friends?


Be friends with my body?  I know it might sound a bit ludicrous, but think about it.  How do you treat your friends?  I think it goes without saying that if you treat your friends well, they'll stick around and return the favor.  Should you chose to abuse and neglect them, they probably won't stay your friend for long.  I'm currently taking a class at Mount Royal called "Physical Activity for the Aging Adult".  We've watched movies about, read articles on and seen a multitude of pictures of some very dear old people.  I've come to realize that I can pick out the people who were friends with their bodies and those who chose to neglect them.  You could say their bodies have become their own autobiography.

So what sort of story do you want your body to tell?  Although ultimately no one has complete control over the sorts of trials and tribulations their bodies will harbour and sustain, everyone knows what must be done to respect and protect their body.  There's no need for me to delve into those details, I prefer not to preach and I know that it's different for everyone.  If anything, I guess the reason this topic has haunted my mind for the past little while is because so few people seem to really understand and love their bodies.  Instead of being the best friends they deserve to be, people increasingly choose to treat their bodies more like a canvas to paint on, an animal to experiment on, or a cushion to sit on.  Although we may convince ourselves for a while that this is the state our body is truly happy in, I guarantee it will be hard to stick to that argument once your body turns 104 and you're really only 64.  We don't have to be friends with our bodies.  However, if that's your choice, don't expect your body to be friends with you either.


In the end, I am of the belief that my main purpose and goal is to be happy.  I was given a body in order to more fully experience life, to experience highs and lows, trials and triumphs.  I know I haven't lived long, but what I do know is that I am happiest when my body is happy and I look forward to a long and lively friendship.