I was with a friend when she started talking about her body — it was too fat, her breasts were too small, her hair was too thin, her skin too wrinkled. I interrupted her, crying, “You must stop! I cannot stand by and let you talk about my friend that way!”

That got us both to thinking about how often our relationship with our bodies is one of denigration.

I’ve been paying attention, and I’ve found that I mostly notice things about my body that I don’t like. (Aren’t I an enlightened feminist who let go of all that cultural crap about how women should look a long time ago? Ha!)

So I’ve made a rule — when I catch myself not liking something about my body, I then must name two things that I do like. Wow! There is so much to like! So much to celebrate!

My body is a wonder. Our bodies are amazing. Why did we ever get in the habit of being critical of them?

If my friend’s body is my friend, then so too must my own body be my friend. In fact, she is my very best friend. From the beginning, she has allowed me to do so much!  And I must defend her every bit as fiercely as I defended my friend’s body. I must especially defend her from myself.