I love you. I know you may not look like the bodies on the cover of Vogue or on the runway of Victoria Secret but I don’t see them fielding a ground ball rocketed at them and making the throw to first. I know you are considered too big by society's standards and don't have the ideal Coke bottle shape women are supposed to have, but you help me serve my purpose. Thanks to you, I can proudly keep up with workouts and practices set by Division I coaches. Every muscle, every cut, every cell has a purpose.

My shoulders that are too big to fit into BeBe leather jackets allow me to swing a bat with fierce bat speed. My legs that resemble a sculpted piece of art, and that make getting into skinny jeans a workout in and of itself, allow me to run fast enough to beat an infield hit.

One day, these hips that aren’t considered feminine enough, but still considered too big, will bare a child into hopefully a world that has adjusted its standards of beauty. I push you everyday beyond measure, and you never give up on me. Even if right now a piece of you may not be fully healthy, I know you give me perfect effort towards recovery.

Dear body, I know it’s hard. I know those 300-yard shuttles make you question my sanity but thank you for never questioning my heart. We have three more years left before we go through our last lifts. This time it won’t be a bar with 45’s on it but instead our arms, lifting them to our chest to button up our jerseys for the final time. As we walk into the batters box in the bottom of the seventh with bases loaded and two outs (the scenario we always run through our heads growing up and dream of being in), I won’t worry about you.

I know I’ve trained my hands enough to stay inside the ball, and my legs enough to run quickly out the batters box, and my heart to not explode as I desperately run around the bases. I won’t be scared because I’ll know we’ve trained our whole careers for that moment. At the end of our last game, we’ll go through our last lift, hanging up our cleats forever. But for now, we still have weights tomorrow and games this weekend so don't lose hope; we still have time.

Dear body, to others you are too big, too small, too curvy, too manly, but to me you are perfect. Thank you for putting up with all the suicides we’ve had to run and for being there even when I hadn’t learned to love you yet. My dream of being a Division I softball player wouldn’t have come true if it weren’t for you. You allow me to do my job every day.

Dear body, you are beautiful. You are my temple. You are loved.