Dear Old Body,

I miss you. I am writing you this letter and sending it in a bottle in joyful hope that you will one day return to me. Even though I cannot see you I know that you are there just hiding in the depths of my excess fat.

Body, I apologize for saying hateful things to you in the past. I never appreciated your beauty. Instead of appreciating a butt so tight I could bounce a quarter off of it, I called it "ghetto booty" and other degrading names. Sure you had your shortcomings like being a total height of 5'2'' with, like, seven inch toes, but we could live with that! Please come back to me and I promise I will treat you better. I will buy you nice things and I will wear sunscreen. I will take you for walks and drink more water. I will stop using salt as a condiment.

To my jawline, I can feel you when I press hard enough, and I can see you when I pull the skin on my face to the back of my head. I do hope that one day we will be reunited and we will smile to the camera with pride. To my arms, it seems that the turkey gobbled up your triceps. To my belly... oh my poor, poor belly. Where six beautiful abdominal muscles once stood proud and united, I am left with one large layer of fat with an unfortunate looking line running through the center. To my hips, remember when you liked one another and sat close enough to fit into a pair of Express jeans? Do you really want to shop at JC Penney for the rest of our lives? To my thighs, you always sucked, but now you especially suck. Stop rubbing together already! And to my feet, you are doing a great job carrying around all of this extra weight and I solemnly swear that I will do everything in my power to relieve you of your heavy burden... right after I put down this brownie.