To The Dimples on the Backs of My Thighs

by Priscilla on May 16, 2015

Hey there,

You seem to like me…a lot.

For the past 30 some years I’ve tried to get rid of you, and you appear not to take the hint. I’ve run miles and miles while you’ve tagged along. I’ve swum in chlorine and salt water for hours and hours, and you are always right there waiting for me whenever I yank off my cap in exhaustion. I’ve had to double and sometimes triple up on bathing suits because they’ve worn thin…but you don’t. You remain the same.

Depending on my age and life circumstances my weight and clothes size has fluctuated from 4-12 and now back to a steady 6.  I’m ok with 6. You don’t seem to notice my size or my weight though, dear Dimples on the Backs of My Thighs. I thought you’d leave and run away, but you’ll have none of that. You are faithful if nothing else.

I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been, and yet, I try to box jump, wall ball and kettle ball snatch you away, but nothing doing. I sprint. I pedal. I push press. I row. I mow. And you are with me.

Quite frankly you are becoming something like a psalm written about God. Always right there. A part of me. Not going anywhere.

And so, today I’m making my peace with you. You’ve hung around a long time so clearly you like me. Maybe it’s time I like you back. You remind me I’m human. You, along with your cousins, The Spider Veins, gently point out that I’m a woman of a certain age and with that age brings wisdom. I see you seem to like a lot of my girlfriends as well, so I’m in good company.  

I supposed I could pay someone to suck you out of my life, but that seems a bit ridiculous at this point. I mean, I think you’ve won the right to be heard. 

Someday you’ll want to meet my daughters. Like me, they may not like you much at first, but hang in there. They are stubborn like their mother. When the time comes, I’ll put in a good word for you.

TIS.

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