Thick Legs

Right about the time I feel like I have my mind right someone or something comes along to derail things.

Or...

I allow them to..

“I didn’t realize you had such thick legs.”

A stranger said this to me recently.  I’d like to say I didn’t care, but it stung. 

It also catapulted me back in time to the first time I felt ashamed of my body. I was in middle school. It was 6th or 7th grade. I was twelve or thirteen years old.

I WAS A CHILD.

It started after a new family moved to town. They had a pool, the mom was loud and fun and the daughters (one of whom was in my class) attained instant popularity. 

It didn’t take long for me to be on the outs with my friends of many years and after one pool party the new girl and my former friends started calling me, “Stretch”. 

I didn’t get it. 

Someone had to explain to me that I had stretch marks and that they were a bad thing and that I was being made fun of for having them. This girl and her mother also taught me I had thick thighs and an ugly nose.

All of it planted the seeds of insecurity and self loathing that led to years of unhealthy behaviors. Just thinking about it all these years later makes me feel sweaty and nauseous and nervous. 

It makes me want to hide.

I started having those same feelings during the, “I didn’t realize you had such thick legs,”  exchange a few weeks ago.

Ugh.

I should be over this, right?!?

I AM A GROWN WOMAN.

All sorts of snarky responses rolled through my brain but I just stammered, “Yup! I do!”

And you know what??? That response is actually the best one, because ....

It is what it is.

My legs are what they are. 

My nose is what it is.

My stretch marks are ... just there.

It’s taken decades but I no longer feel the need to hide these parts of my body or make excuses for them. 

I definitely don’t want to keep carrying around the shame that I let that girl and her mother hang on me.

I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Neither do you.