In the orbit of thin
Saturday, April 25, 2015
We drove six hours yesterday and made a few pit stops. One place had a full-length restroom mirror so I steeled myself to look in it as I waited for the kid. I've only started looking into mirrors the last few months, and had spent many years before that avoiding them like the plague.
So I noticed that my legs look almost thin. I was wearing newish jeans with a bit of lycra for stretch, which were advertised as "straight leg". Six months ago, "straight leg" jeans two sizes larger were stretched to the max on me - the seams bulged the length of my leg and I had very generous muffin tops threatening to pop the button at the waist. And my legs would rub together, and sitting down and trying to cross my legs was hazardous.
Anyway, I noticed that in my new jeans, my legs weren't bulging anywhere. Nothing rubbed - my legs didn't make any contact with each other. I guess this is how legs are "normally" supposed to function, but I had gotten used to my thighs wearing out the inside seams of my pants. I am ashamed to say, I left that restroom a little obsessed about my legs. And while standing on the spectator side of the soccer field yesterday, and remembering the image of my legs, I felt somehow taller. I'm not sure what the psychology of that is, because it makes no sense whatsoever.