Learning to Love My Legs

        Everyone has a body part they dislike. Plastic surgeons make a mint off the fact that women crave bigger perkier breasts, and smaller shapelier noses.  For me, though, the most loathsome part of my body has always been my legs.    If had a magic wand, and could change just one thing about myself, I'd wave it over my thighs and command the cellulite and saddle bags to disappear.
   I've hated my legs as long as I can remember. Along about middle school, perhaps even as early as fifth grade, I came to the realization that my legs were out of proportion with the rest of my body.  I can remember very distinctly, looking in the mirror and being acutely aware that my thighs didn't look like some of the other girls.  As soon as I was old enough to know the word cellulite, I began seeing it take up residence on my upper legs--and this realization killed me!  In high school, I remember fantasizing about saving my money so I could afford to have liposuction.  I'd look at other girls, with their sleek, taunt upper legs and wonder why my legs couldn't look like that.  I coveted a "thigh gap" before it was popular.  The thing is, my hatred of my legs started well before I was even seriously overweight.
     As I got older and packed on more and more pounds, I continued to focus most of my body hatred on my lower region. To this day, even after torching damn near 100 pound,  when I looked in the mirror all  I see is a fat ass and thunder thighs.   I see dimpled blobs of flab exacerbated by the fact that not only are my thighs chunky, they are also glaringly white--seriously, sometimes I think I can't catch a break.  I won't wear white or khaki pants because I'm deathly afraid that these light colors draw attention to this problem area (Plus, with my skin tone, I'm convinced that khaki makes me look naked).    
     Here's the thing though.  Even though my legs will probably never be my favorite part of my body, I've got to start seeing them in a different light.  Just like breasts don't exists solely to be ogled at, neither do legs.  They serve an important and functional purpose.  And when I think about it that way, my legs are pretty damn amazing.  My legs carried me on an hour long hike this morning.  My legs ran three miles through town, four different nights this week.  My legs are helping me get fit and reach my weight loss goals.  I've come to realize that I've got to make peace with the gams God gave me.  Maybe one day soon, I will learn to love my legs.  I'm not there yet, but its getting better every day.