Dear Body,

I'm sorry. Look, I'm sorry. I know that when I hear a dubious apology, I always snap, 'don't say sorry; live sorry.' And I know that no matter how many times I've apologized to you, I've never quite lived as if I was sorry for all of the things I've put you through.

(The very fact that I think I can write a letter to you speaks loudly of the fact that I think of you as an other, something that can be ignored like all of the other others. I believe Lorax when she says that this is wrong. Again, can I live it instead of just saying it?)

I realize that we're reaching some sort of crisis point: when I try to scamper through the house the resultant creaking makes the people below me fear for the support beams. I've been relatively healthy for most of my life, but I know that the good fortune will run out the longer that I leave my body alone like an untended garden. I'm reaping the results of this now: I'm 10 pounds over my previous heaviest weight and none of my clothes fit. Not only am I heavier than I ever have been, but I'm clumsier than I ever have been. And why?

Well, because I believe that you, like my family and friends, can be safely put on hold during periods of great stress. This has been a bad year for us, what with the practicum mess, moving again, getting a job, and starting the most stressful full-time job I have ever conceived of. Remember when we took that stress test and we got over three times the points that indicate health-threatening stress? Over three times. That's not the kind of milestone I particularly want to achieve.

When I started to ignore you in September, there were a few factors that helped us along the rocketsled to hell. First has to be the car. We never walk anywhere any more. We don't even take transit on weekends - we take the car and hand over money to parking attendants while we listen to CBC reports about the health risks associated with a sedentary lifestyle.

Next has to be the stress eating. I'm reaching for comfort food more and more these days - and I'm not just eating reasonable portions, I'm eating until I feel uncomfortable. I feel compelled to do this for some weird reason. I crave cookies and sweet treats like I never have before - and I eat them in enormous quantities. I've been rationalizing like crazy: it's because I'm having a difficult time at school, it's because of the season, it's so nice to have an appetite again that it doesn't really matter what I eat, on and on. But the facts don't support me here. Sure I'm having a difficult time at school, but it's not going to end anytime soon, so what I need to do is find different ways to comfort myself. Every once in awhile I'll eat a bit more in the winter season, but it's by no means the norm - and it's not like I need to bulk up after a lean summer. And the 'nice to have an appetite again' excuse is simply ludicrous - I was off my feed for two weeks in September, and then I recovered. It's not like I was off solids for a year or something equally extreme.

And then there's the anti-depressants. Not a hell of a lot I can do about these right now - except recognize the fact that if I exercise, I'll detoxify and built up less depression for the pills to manage. Maybe I can be off of them by June - which will give me one less excuse.

Anyway, I can tell that you're getting bored. You know all of this stuff already. You've seen me rationalize my way into countless bags of chips; you certainly don't need the process explained one more time. I think I'm trying to convince you that I know what's going on, too. You'd be surprised at what I know. I know, for instance, that part of the reason I find exercise boring is because I'm not very good at it and I'm self-conscious. I know that I use food to compensate for all kinds of emotional pain, both real and imagined. I know that I treat myself like a brain on a stick.

I can hear you saying, 'so what?' Who cares what I know if I won't do anything about it? I won't live sorry and that's all that counts.

Here comes the living sorry part. This is the list. These are the new rules. And I'm writing them down so that you'll call me on it when I try to backslide.

1. No more meat. (Well, hardly any.) I feel better when I eat a vegetarian diet, both ethically and physically; I've just been too lazy to do anything about it. Meat is the ultimate lazy food (except perhaps granola bars), and by taking it out I want to focus attention on what I do put in my maw. If I do eat meat from time to time, rest assured that it won't come from a frozen box or the kitchen of the Colonel.

2. I'm joining the goddamn healthclub in Hogsboro that all the teachers talk about. This is one of those 'there's shame in numbers' deals. If we're all going I can't welsh. I'm hoping to find a few classes as well - it's time I reacquainted myself with the synchronized insanity that is a step class.

3. I'm actually going to drink the proscribed amount of water per day. This in itself will cut down on snacks, because I'll be too busy counting mL's to find cookies.

4. I'm not using to car for anything in the city (except moving goods & chattel). Welcome back transit! Sigh. Can't say I missed waiting for the bus...

5. No more snack foods in the house. This is the usual rule; backsliding brings pain. So no more backsliding. Also, no more trips to the convenience store or school vending machines for ugly delicious snacks. Step three should help - not to mention a steady stash of apples and carrots.

6. Vitamins! I won't need the lost red meat of step one if I take my Iron every day. Maybe I'll actually have the energy for step two.

7. Stop worrying about weight and keep focus on strength, energy and stamina. I want to be a strong troll rather than a dead fairy.

Okay. That's it. I'll write again in a month and take stock. Let me know - the chronic fatigue and crazed junk food cravings have been instructive in their ways, but a good bout of cramps just might wake me up before I plunge over the cliff.

I remain yours,