I Just Love These Chubby Little Thighs!

There has been a shift in my life; a shift in how I see myself. It has been upwards of 6 months since I have taken the full length mirror out of my bedroom. I still have one in the house, but it is behind the bathroom door in my son’s bathroom. It’s not exactly hard to get to, but it’s not right there in my bedroom. I no longer look in a mirror as I get changed. I no longer glance over every couple of seconds to reassure myself that I am still pretty, or still fat, or still whatever it is I feel in that moment. It’s just not there, and you know what? I don’t miss it one bit. Not one! Maybe the first couple of weeks I thought, “uggg, what does this even look like? I need a mirror.” But now, I could care less. Every now and then I like a full length mirror to make sure the shoes go with the dress or that I can’t see the outline of my pad when I bend over, but for the most part, I don’t miss it at all.

And you know what is even better? The past month has been awesome! I made a vow to myself this summer that I would wear shorts as often as possible. It’s been a long time habit of mine to wear pants and capris all summer due to my excessively large and pasty legs.

It first started in high school after a close friend of mine commented that I must live under a rock because my skin looked like it had never seen the light of the sun. Then again in high school someone passed me on the track during gym and said, “Thanks for the motivation to run faster, Liz! My eyes couldn’t take the sun reflecting off of your pasty thighs any longer!” Then in college, my friend’s mom exclaimed, “I knew it was you the moment I saw those white Irish thighs walking across the field!” (In my mind I hear her say “big, white Irish thighs”, but I’m not actually certain the word “big” was in her description.)

This vow to wear shorts as much as possible this summer is huge. It means I am facing my fear of others judging the color and size of my legs. Every time I wear shorts (almost every day), I get excited thinking, “maybe a girl with shapely white thighs will see my legs and think, ‘I can do that too! I can wear shorts proudly!’” I know it sounds a little silly, but gals, I know I’m not alone in this. And you know what? It IS silly! It’s silly to not wear shorts because you think your thighs don’t look good in them, or because they might be too pale, or because they are “too big”, or because they are dimpled with cellulite. It’s silly to spend the summer in a puddle of swamp ass because I fear what others (and I) think of my legs in shorts. It’s silly to think, “I shouldn’t wear shorts because someone might think ­­­_________.” Every time I wear shorts I feel like I am participating in act of defiance – defiance against the lie that my body cannot confidently wear shorts. And it’s working!

Lately, when I see my legs, I love them! I’m excited that I get to rock my legs! Don’t get me wrong, I still love long, slim legs; but I also love my short, compact, muscle packed, freckle spattered legs. I think I owe a lot of that to my son. My son has a similar build to me: compact. He has these power packed little legs. His thighs have just the right amount of chub that I want to squeeze them all the time, but they are also so strong. This boy also has a butt on him, he grows out of his diapers and pants ass first (just like mommy!). And you know what? I love him for it! I mean I would love him without it too, but it’s just him. It just is, and I can’t get enough of this little guy.

And guess what?! That is how God feels about me! That is how God feels about you! I had this vision of God grabbing me like a parent and snuggling me close and with his lips pushed forward in that pouty baby talk way saying, “I just love these chubby little thighs!” And the word chubby was not mean or hurtful or judgmental, it just was. My legs are chubby and I love them! Because they are me, and God just loves me so much. If I change does his love for me change? No way, because I am me and no one else is me. Does that even make sense? I don’t care.

I’m learning to love me for me…

…not because I hang with Leonardo, or the guy who played in Fargo, I think his name is Steve… (couldn’t help singing that song)

Am I perfect?

Hell to the no!

Do I still have things that need to change?


Do those things need to keep me from loving myself where I am at?

No way!


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