Dear lord, grant me world peace, thin thighs, and hips without hail damage…
The other day at a shopping mall, I unexpectedly caught site of my backside in a reflection. When I came to, I couldn’t bring myself to tell the nice paramedic what had really caused my fainting spell.
Once home, I gazed in the mirror and uttered my daily prayer: “Dear lord: Grant me world peace, thin thighs, and hips without hail damage (not in any particular order).”
World peace seemed much more likely than thin thighs.
However, seeing forty in my rearview mirror has had its advantages. My thirst for knowledge has made me smarter than I was as a twenty-something (if nothing else, I recognize how much I don’t know). Funny how at that age I thought I knew it all—that I was wise beyond my years. I knew about life. I knew about love. My mother had assured me I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up, and I believed her. (Note: My interpretation was that I could do everything I wanted to do—big difference).
With years has come more wisdom and hopefully maturity. It seems that most things in life can be summed up by the Serenity Prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
The (T)ruth is, sometimes life’s not fair. (Speaking of not fair, how about those thighs???) And we can get stuck in the “unfairness” of it all—or we can accept it, maybe even laugh about it, and move on.'
Dimples, lumps, and bumps… oh my! Like many women, I frequently find myself contemplating my thighs with disgust—a graphic reminder that my youth and sex appeal have passed.
And yet when I am kinder to myself, I can acknowledge that these thighs have formed the lap that lovingly held my children when they were tired, or sick, or just craved the solace of a loving hug. They have powered many steps while running through airport terminals, trudging to the laundry room, or walking thoughtfully on the beach. They have held me upright while performing CPR, cooking a meal, or giving the eulogy of a parent. They allow me to tenderly wrap myself around and engulf my lover, becoming one in a passionate embrace that cannot be experienced by youth.
In a sense each dimple, lump, and bump has earned its way there. My experiences have molded me into the incredibly unique person that I am. Perhaps I could practice being kinder to myself—and to my thighs.
