Dear Sophia,
I love you.
It’s Sunday now. Sundays always used to seem so grey and gloomy. Now Sunday always feels really hopeful. Hope is the wrong word actually. Hoping is what you do when you think something might not happen but you want it too. This isn’t hoping. It’s excitement. Sunday brings excitement.
It’s been two weeks now. I made it through the two weeks. I’ve got your picture with me. It’s telling me everything’s ok and you’re ok and we’ll be back together tomorrow.
I feel really good about tomorrow. I feel really good about everything. I feel like it’s back on course. When I woke up my arms and shoulders were a bit tired from working out yesterday. It didn’t bother me though. Nothing can bother me now.
I watched a T.V show today that was one of those shows about getting women to feel better about themselves. There was this middle aged woman on it. They didn’t tell her to do exercise like I’m doing or anything like that. They did loads of stupid stuff. They got her to go on T.V in her underwear and cry about how unhappy she was with herself. Now loads of strangers have seen her in her underwear and seen her crying. I don’t see how that’s useful.
Then they started telling her she was stupid to be upset because she’s already perfect. Then they went and made her make lots of changes. They told her she was perfect but she needed new clothes. They told her she was perfect but needed a new haircut. They told her she was perfect but she needed to throw out her underwear. They told her she was perfect but she needed expensive make up and a proper makeover. They told her they were going to put lots of lights on her and make her walk down a runway like a model. It was just stupid. It made no sense.
It made me realise how lucky I am that there’s no pressure on me to improve myself. We’re already perfect. Consummate. Defectless. Impeccable. I can get fitter and learn to cook and lots of things like that but it won’t make us any more or less perfect. I don’t need to change and that’s why we work. You’ve made me realise that. Without you I’m not perfect but with you I am because having you makes me perfect. It’s not like that woman on T.V where they tell her she’s perfect but mean she could be perfect if she tried. I’m already perfect because I have you.
We’re just completely perfect. They can’t change that and I can’t change that and you can’t change that. It’s just how it is.
I love you.
Yours,
Andrew