6 down, 69 to go.
Let's talk about....THIGHS. Thighs are great. They deserve WAAAAYYY more love than we women typically give them. We stress, we bitch and complain, we want muscle definition, we want a 'thigh gap' (well, some of us do), less cellulite, blah blah blah. My thighs have a lot of fat on them; that's where weight seems to want to go when I gain...but they also have lots of muscle and they are the reason I can lift lots of heavy shit. If anyone ever decides to eat me, my thighs are gonna be DELICIOUS.
My big thighs are hard to shop for, though - that's something that doesn't change whether I'm 50lbs heavier than I am now, or 50lbs lighter (been both places, trust me). Whenever I go shopping, I have to repeat over and over to myself "I will not but stretchy workout clothes, I will not buy stretchy workout clothes, I will not buy stretchy workout clothes" and when I succeed at that, I end up getting irritated with the whole process and storming out empty-handed. This problem is exacerbated in the summer since shorts are out of the question (until the hungry-ass look gets cool which seems unlikely) and skirts or dresses, even though they look lovely, feel horrific. Ever imagined what it would feel like to take a glue gun and glue your thighs together with hot glue? That's what wearing a skirt feels like in the summer. Show me a full-figured woman in one of those pretty, breezy long skirts and I'll show you a woman who is dying a little on the inside.
Speaking of dying on the inside, I took my kids swimming at the outdoor pool yesterday, and -
We had a blast. Now, I've been feeling fairly large and conspicuous lately but I refuse to put life on
hold and deprive my kids of going swimming outdoors in the summer, just because I'm not
comfortable in my own skin. What am I teaching my children if I hide at home and let my own body issues win? So I gritted my teeth and squeezed myself into my swimming suit. 'I don't have to like this but I'm not doing it for me', I told myself. 'Just smile and fake it until you feel better.' And hey, guess what? That actually worked. Was I the hottest chick on the pool deck? Hell no. Did that make the slightest bit of difference? It sure didn't. It was a good lesson.
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