I Have Thick Thighs

Yeah, I have thick thighs.

Yeah, I’m not necessarily “Barbie material.”

No, this isn’t a cry for feel-good empty compliments.

No, this isn’t a comparison to your thighs.

This isn’t a “boo-hoo feel bad for me” post.

This isn’t a roast on myself.

This is a celebration because I have thick thighs.

They rub when I walk. When I take a stroll with one of my closest friends around the neighborhood, they stick together in the heat of the sun and make it uncomfortable to wear shorts. That is, unless I want to resemble an angry penguin.

They jiggle when I run. They remind me of baby elephants trampling through Africa and stumbling about nonchalantly… probably looking for food of some sort (the same is true here). You can’t find me on Bay Watch with these bad boys… the slow motion would do both of us no good.

They take up way too much room when I sit. They spread out like a pair of wings that are incapable of carrying me into flight. Sometimes they don’t quite fit into my jeans, and sometimes they get too close to the edges of my chair.

Yeah, ok, so what?

Here’s the celebration part.

They rub together as I share life with my best friend: as I help her navigate through her latest problem, as she patiently listens to me process things, and as I belly-laugh as we reminisce to a time when my thighs weren’t this big. They touch when I appreciate God’s masterpieces (that’s us) as we walk through His creation.

They carry me well as I push them through three-mile runs and too many jump squats. They are strong and so much more capable of what I limit them to. They burn when I stretch and remind me of the progress I’ve made and the growth that is awaiting me. They allow me to exercise frequently and dance freely.

They meet when I hang out with Jesus in the mornings and yell at Him in my car in the evenings.  They remind me of how fortunate I am to not have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. They collide when I settle down to refuel my body with my family, when I cozy up with my favorite book, and when I take in the setting sun while happily demolishing an ice cream cone.

They allow me to experience life, no matter what size they are.

What you look like in this life is not nearly as precious as how you live it.

I have thick thighs.

But who the fruit cares.