I wore a pair of shorts out in public today that I normally reserve exclusively for around the house.  They are old.  They fit.  But they don’t cover much of my thighs.  They are short shorts.  I’m not prancing around at risk of my labia falling out. I’m not that brave.   However, a month away from 40, both etiquette and culture would tell me these shorts are too short.

Let me tell you about these shorts:  They were my brother’s back in the 80s.  I am sure he was like 8 or 10 when he wore them.  They have DEEEEEEEEEP pockets that girl shorts would NEVER give you.  All though they are short, they are not hugging.  They somehow fit better than any short I have ever owned in my entire life.  They are made well. They are Burgundy.  And I love them.  But until today I would never have allowed myself to be seen in them.

I’m working on this confidence thing.  And failing. Hard.  But the more I think about it and the more I fail I recognize a complacency that is overtaking much of the vanity part of my brain.  I know that some of the complacency is really bad for me, but I have to admit there are parts of it that are really healthy, too.  And while I struggle to find my lost confidence, this complacency is allowing me to let go some of the areas that I have never been comfortable with about my body, or perhaps rules about myself deeply ingrained based on cultural expectation.  Like how I never used to leave the house without make-up.  I can count on one hand in the last 18 months the number of times I’ve put on makeup and I firmly believe my skin and my mental health are better for it.  I am seeing a potential bridge from the “give no fucks” to a new confidence I hope to achieve.  Which I think will require deliberate steps on my part.  To embrace The Who Cares mentality and dive into some serious culture defying behavior.

So today, I wore short shorts in public for all the world to see me in all my cottage cheese, chub rub, thunder thigh thick glory.  Check me out!

And I was ok.  Actually I pulled on them once, not out of physical discomfort but out of mental discomfort.  Omigosh!  They’re riding up!  But I stopped myself.  No one was looking.  No one cared.  Who am I to any of these people?  No one.

The thunder thighs thing was one of those hateful teenage taunts that left residual awareness.  I don’t walk around hating my legs.  I appreciate them.  They are strong.  I was a dancer.  Then I was a runner.  Now they just continue to hold me up and get me to and from and that is worthy of love and acceptance enough.  But I was always very matter of fact about how I don’t have nice legs.  I don’t think it ever bothered me that I didn’t have nice legs.  I just was very accepting of the standards of nice legs and how mine didn’t fit.  Ok.

I had an old boyfriend try and tell me he was really a leg guy and thought I had nice legs.  That was 20 years ago, and even with my young legs I never allowed his perception to be my reality.  Perhaps it was real.  perhaps what he liked about my legs didn’t necessarily follow cultural slim tradition.  All I knew, was he was wrong. Didn’t he know?  These legs were not nice legs.  And even now, I have a gay best friend that always compliments outfit choices because “I have the legs for it.”  I call bullshit every time.  Gay besties aren’t suppose to lie to you.

But things started to change for me and my legs a couple summers ago.  Miss Eaves put out a music video called Thunder Thighs.  It made such an impression on me.  Normal women of all sizes, ages, dressed in all things, bouncing and dancing and walking in slow motion with their “jelly” wobbling all over.  An anthem for real women everywhere.  It allowed me to let go of the bathing suit issues and relax at a water park so I could just enjoy myself and not waste my energy comparing myself to the people around me.  I would sing this song in my head and it helped me a lot.

As some of you know, I have been binge watching Ally McBeal.  Another anthem for women and body positivity.  In this series the characters have theme songs to give themselves a boost.  Pump themselves up.  Before a date, before a trial.  Doesn’t matter.  In the summer I walk around with Thunder Thighs in my head.  I invite you to embrace it’s glory.  You can watch Thunder Thighs on Youtube here.

So one of my goals this summer is embrace my chub rub.  I don’t need to hide these things because society thinks I should.  Normally I would skip shorts most of the time and continue to wear jeans.  I don’t have a lot of shorts.  I struggle to find functional shorts I like that fit well. So I just stay hot.  Or steal my husband’s basket ball shorts that do nothing but make me look like a slob.  And in my brain, looking like an average woman in a decent pair of well made short shorts that fit well is way better than looking like a slob. So, I’m gonna wear these shorts around town.  With my cell phone deep in the front pocket because I can.