I went swimsuit shopping recently (because of a vacation fast approaching). I cannot get the image of my thighs out of my head. It is not a pretty picture.
Usually when I think about my least favorite body part, I focus on my belly. But my middle was covered by fat-sucking-in lycra and a hide-your-sins print that distracted the eye. Not so for the thighs. There they stood. Pasty white and glaringly bright. Saddlebags. Inner thigh fat. Cellulite. The focus of my attention in the mirror as my eyes were drawn down to that horrible area of flesh just below the swimsuit bottom. Jiggly and bulging. Ugh.
I hadn’t seen those thighs in that way in a long time. My former swimsuits were the skirted variety, the better to hide things best kept hidden. But I discovered that in the water the skirt floats up and is very annoying! So it was time to come out from behind the skirt and get back into a typical bottom. Nothing too high cut, although I understand that is more flattering. Just a modest but not too matronly bottom.
I don’t pay much attention to my thighs in my usual daily attire. Sure, there are the occasional bulging moments in a particularly clingy or snug pair of pants. But mostly I avoid buying anything that highlights that area. Most of the time I think that my thighs are actually standing me in good stead – with strong quads from cycling and strength training. Muscles! But that’s just the area in front. Clearly no exercise in my repertoire is doing a thing for the inner, outer, and back of my thighs. Thus my sighs about the size. Oh my thighs. In my eyes. Materialize. And stick in my brain. And make me wonder how self-conscious I will be in my new suit that has no skirt.
So now my next purchase… a cover-up sarong!