I believe I am not my body

Every day, we see images of perfect bodies we can never have, and we become convinced our bodies are who we are. Passing through puberty, into adulthood and now into middle age, I've wasted a lot of time lamenting the size of my hips, the gray in my hair, and the lines in my face. Finally, as I approach my 50s, I believe my parents were right all along: I am not my body.

I was born in 1959, at the tail end of the baby boom. Unfortunately I arrived without all my body parts fully intact. My left arm is a short stub with a small hand and three fingers, reminiscent of a thalidomide defect. To my good fortune, I had superb parents. They were fighters who struck "I can't" from my vocabulary, and replaced it with "I will find a way." They believed the development of the mind, heart and soul determine who you are and who you will become. My body was not to be used as an excuse; instead it was a catalyst.

My body was not neglected, though. It endured surgery; it was dragged to physical therapy, then to swimming, and finally to yoga. But it was not the focus of my life. I was taught to respect my body, but to remember that it was only a vehicle that carried the important things: my brain and soul. Moreover, I was taught that bodies come in all shapes, colors and sizes, and that everyone was struggling in some way with their physical inadequacies. Infomercials have convinced me this must be true, although through adolescence I found it difficult to believe the cheerleading squad had any self-doubts.

In my alternately formed body, I have learned lessons about patience, determination, frustration and success. This body can't play the piano or climb rock walls, but it taught all the neighborhood kids to eat with their feet, a skill it learned in the children's hospital. Eventually it learned to tie shoes, crossed a stage to pick up a college diploma, backpacked through Europe and changed my baby's diapers.

Some people think I am my body and treat me with prejudice or pity. Some are just curious. It took years, but I have learned to ignore the stares and just smile back. My body has taught me to respect my fellow humans — even the thin, able-bodied, beautiful ones.

I am my words, my ideas and my actions. I am filled with love, humor, ambition and intelligence. This I believe: I am your fellow human being and, like you, I am so much more than a body.

人，不僅僅只有軀殼

1.我們經(jīng)?？匆姳茸约荷聿暮玫枚嗟娜嗽谥車┧?，然而我們只能做自己。從孩提時代一直到我的中年這段期間，我浪費了太多時間去哀嘆臀部的缺陷，斑白的頭發(fā)還有臉上明顯的皺紋。而在我快要50歲的時候，我終于明白了父母親曾經(jīng)講過的一句話：人，不僅僅只有軀殼。

1959年，我出生在嬰兒潮的末期?？刹恍业氖?，我是帶著殘缺的身體降臨在這個世界上的。我的左手上面只有三根手指，并且手臂很短小，這讓我想起了 “停缺損”。但是，我有很關(guān)心我的父母，他們一直鼓勵我，能把我想法中的“我不能”變成“我可以成功”這句話。因為他們相信一個人的思想，心靈和道德的發(fā)展決定一個人的價值和命運。我的身體缺陷其實是我成長催化劑，并不是逃避的借口。

我想我的身體是有存在價值的，它能經(jīng)得住外科手術(shù)的煎熬，可以進行物理治療，然后還可以游泳，練習(xí)瑜伽。但是這些都不是我生活的重點，我希望別人能尊重我的身體的同時，記住只有思想和靈魂能夠決定我的價值。而且，我要告訴所有人，我們的身體是以各種形態(tài)，膚色和尺寸存在的，然而每個人都與他們身體上的某種缺陷進行某種方式的掙扎。我相信商業(yè)信息廣告關(guān)于這條報道的真實性，即使在我青春期的時候我很難相信拉拉隊班的人有自我懷疑的時候。

在我身體的成熟期，我經(jīng)歷了忍耐-決心-挫折-成功的過程。我不能彈鋼琴，不能攀爬巖石墻，但是教會了所有的鄰居小孩用腳吃飯--一個只有在兒童醫(yī)院學(xué)會的技能。最后，我學(xué)會了系鞋帶，并且越過重重障礙，拿到了大學(xué)文憑，背著雙肩包穿過歐洲，給我的寶寶換尿布。

有的人以偏見或者憐憫的態(tài)度對待我，有的人僅僅是好奇。經(jīng)過漫長的歲月，我學(xué)會了無視這些看法，而且以微笑回答他們。我的身體教會了我要尊重我同胞，不管是瘦的，健全的，或是美麗的人。

我說到做到，我以我的思想和行動來證明。我的內(nèi)心充滿了愛，幽默，抱負和智慧。所以我相信：我和你一樣，不僅僅是一個軀殼。

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