Thigh rubs

So this morning I set off on my now VERY familiar walking trail, lamenting the whole way just how much I detest the way my thighs rub together when I move, and just how much I hate it that my tummy and bum jiggle with every step. Cursing my non-existent metabolism and just generally grumbling about all menopausal-body-related suckiness!!

I have been desperately trying to follow a healthy eating plan for two months (almost three!) now and all I seem to have lost in all that time is my will to live!

So there I was, me and my thighs, marching along and YIP – feeling pretty sorry for ourselves. Willing the fat to friction itself off to a timely death and drop from my legs with every step, actually picturing it sizzling behind me on the hot pavement – I’m all into visualisations at the moment! When about ¾ of the way home I saw an old gentleman walking very slowly towards me, back bowed and feet shuffling along the uneven concrete. I moved to the left to allow him to pass and traverse the path of least resistance (I tell you I know every nook and cranny of this route!). I smiled politely at him as I breezed past and almost stopped in my tracks when I heard his softly spoken words, they certainly shut up the self-loathing conversation going on in my head … “ah, to have those legs again, enjoy them my dear”.

So yes, THANK YOU Universe for the slap upside the head! #get over yourself # be grateful #enjoy every moment # rubbing thighs keep you warm in winter

Fat thighs

“If you had a person in your life treating you the way you treat yourself, you would have gotten rid of them a long time ago…” Cheri Huber,

 

“The way you think about yourself determines your reality. You are not being hurt by the way people think about you. Many of those people are a reflection of how you think about yourself.”
― Shannon L. Alder

 

“Fat’ is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.

I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…

I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’

‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’

What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!

I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.”
― J.K. Rowling

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