i remember when you changed. when you went from sticks to actual trunks. when you went from nonexistent to things to reckoned with. it was a quick transition. it happened overnight. one day i had little legs and the next day my thighs were rubbing together.
(let me just say that that thigh gap business is stupid. i haven't had a thigh gap since high school. never will again most likely. if you have one, good for you. if you don't have one, good for you. let me just live, dammit.)
i remember older men, friends of my parents, commenting on the change. for some reason my legs becoming bigger, becoming shapely, signaled other changes. the shape of my legs meant i was on my way to becoming a woman.
it was weird how they commented on my legs, on you.
and with the changes came other things. mostly stretch marks. these little white rivulets that cover my butt and my thighs and eventually made their way to my calves too. it was as if my body wasn't ready for the change either. it all happened so fast and my skin couldn't keep up.
i remember not wanting to wear bathing suits because of them. it took me a while to get over it.
i remember not wanting to wear shorts because of them. and now i don't wear shorts because my thighs eat them and before i know it i feel like i am wearing a diaper. anyone know of a good shorts company with shorts that won't ride up my thighs like they are disneyland?
i remember my dad buying me boots one christmas and i remember me trying to get them past my calf muscle.
"maybe they aren't supposed to go past them..." he offered.
"no, mine are just bigger than is desirable," i muttered.
i didn't know about extended calf boots then. i do now. but really, let's talk about this companies. let's talk about this because i am about average. average height. average build (i might even be below average in some categories...i don't even fucking know what average is). that means there are millions of women who have calves that are just as big or bigger than mine. why don't you try to cater to us as well? and i'm not just talking to shoe companies. pants companies, jeans companies, my pants get stuck on my calves all the time. and not just in skinny jeans, homies.
anyway, i got used to my legs and i even began to like them. i began to like the strength they could hold. the strength they can show to the world. legs, you change even now. if i so much as run an inch, you grow and change. you have a racing stripe now. when i lift my quad, my thigh moves differently, showing where they've gotten toned. my extended calf boots are a bit tight now.
when i was rehearsing a play this past august, a friend said "oh my god, charly, your legs!" i looked down, worried. "look at your muscles! damn, girl!" i smiled and thought back to a time where i admired another girl's calves in college. i was entranced by how large and strong they looked. i think she heard me talking about them and thought i meant it negatively. i didn't. i still feel bad.
legs, my relationship with you, to you, has changed ever since i picked up running. i didn't think my legs could take me far. my knees hurt. my feet hurt. for years, before yoga, i couldn't touch my toes. if i sit too long, my ass hurts and i feel an ache down to my toe (shhh, don't tell me what that is because i know but i'm ignoring it).
and yet, you take me.
and yet, you let me go further.
tomorrow, legs, we are doing half marathon #7. NUMBER SEVEN! can you believe it, legs? can you believe that you have done this six other times? can you believe we are going to run 26.2 in the fall (p.s. i still need to get to $3500 to make that happen so if you want these legs to be in action, consider donating here)? can you believe that you can manage to run but can't manage to enjoy walking up hills or even really walk in heels?
you deserve a nice rub down, legs. you do.