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I would spend every morning trying to figure out how to hide my ankles, since my pants were always too short: Finding a 29-inch inseam for a nine-year-old's body was all but impossible. As a teenager, I was called everything from thin (by the polite) to anorexic (by the insensitive), as well as names like Bones, and, my least favorite, Skeletor, after a character in a cartoon called He-Man, who was not only a villain but male to boot! At sixteen I was desperate to see some hint of my future womanly figure. I wasn't greedy; just one bulge would do.

Now that I'm an adult, my possession of lengthy limbs and a fast metabolism is referred to as lucky, an idea I've only recently been able to wrap my scarred emotions around. (What I do consider lucky is that I've been able to leave behind the reminders of how cruel children can be.) If I wanted to, I could do just as I've done most of my life and never work at being thin-that supposedly ideal state. But isn't it funny how you always want what you don't have? I am a woman who has to work for the curves I desire. When I look in the mirror I want to feel good about what I see.

There are parts of my 32-year-old body that need a little more tending than they did even two years ago. Looking in the mirror and seeing my ass sag to the back of my knees (yes, bony asses sag too) or, even worse, seeing no ass at all isn't what motivates me to live an active lifestyle. (I would just try never to be caught standing, so that no one could see just how much my buns have deflated, torturing me with their pale imitation of their former selves.) I work out because I have surrendered to the animal I am-and to an animal, strength is a matter of survival.

I didn't understand this until an amazing gift came to me. Five years ago, my beautiful friend Drew Barrymore gave me a job, Charlie's Angels, and one of the greatest experiences and surprises of my life came out of it. For our roles, Drew, Lucy Liu and I were required to train in kung fu. For three months, eight hours a day, five days a week, we would throw literally hundreds of punches and kicks. At the end of each day I thought I would die; that I wouldn't make it through another day of training, let alone be able to heave my leg up over my head as instructed. But somehow I was even more terrified of failing to meet the demands of our kung fu master than I was of the fact that I could barely move my foot from the gas pedal to the brake while driving. It was the most intense thing that I had ever done in my life. I watched my body change hour by hour, visibly taking on a different shape with every kick and punch, as did my mental ability to cope with the challenge.

The changes were everything I ever wanted to see. The pointy bone that I once used as a weapon against my sister (much like a wrestler in the World Wrestling federation uses his elbow to pile-drive his opponent) was now masked by a mound of flesh and muscle. As elated as I was to see the fruits of my labor surface in all the right place, I began to realize that something bigger and more important was happening. I was building a relationship with my body, and for the first time in my life I felt connected to it. I could feel the ground under my feet differently, my steps became effortless, and my body held itself up without my having to think about it. My energy was boundless, and my heart could handle any task I gave it.

I had always thought of working out as something that people did to stay thin, so it made no sense for me to do it. I had no idea that I would get all these other rewards from it. So I made a pact right then and there with my body that I would never let it get to a point where it forgot what it was like to be strong. I promised it that I would always try and meet it at least halfway. If it continued to give me the reward of strength, I would give it the opportunity to do so. So now I go to the gym and I surf and I snowboard; I hike and take every chance to do something active when I can.

Through working out, I have gained a butt less bony (not much). And because I've become more accepting of myself, the decisions I make fashion-wise become less about hiding the things that I once considered unattractive and more about expressing who I am. I love color; I never used to wear it, because I didn't want to draw attention to myself. Now color is right in line with who I am. I've also abandoned the sweater that once adorned my buttocks, keeping my insecurities under wraps. The only thing that hasn't changed is that there are still certain lengths of pant I don't wear-anything that shows the knobs of my ankles is still too painful an experience for me.

Making Charlie's Angels was an amazing physical journey. But that level of fitness is impossible to maintain: You can't realistically work out eight hours a day every day of your life. After we finished the film, I found I was left to my own devices to keep fit and healthy. Between exercise, food intake, and workload, it's very easy for me to live a life of excess. There are few rules that apply to someone who can eat whatever happens to make it into her mouth (I'm affectionately known by my friends as the human garbage disposal). But if I do that, I don't feel good inside. Even though I'm a great believer in lying in bed for that extra ten minutes if you can, I hate when I let myself go. These days I look for balance. I don't worry about eating too many French fries or cheese and crackers if I know I've been active enough and drunk enough water, which is my favorite thing in the whole world.

I've come to the conclusion that you've got to have a healthy relationship with your body if you want to be happy with it. We all come in different shapes and sizes, and the grass is always greener on the other side-two cliches that, like most cliches, happen to be true. That's the thing about this conversation; it always ends up in the same place. We are all different, and we all wish we had something other than what we have. What we women need to do, instead of worrying about what we don't have, is just love what we do have. Get to know your body. Love it, respect it, treat it right. And in return you'll be happier with you.

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