Weight Loss: The Breeze Between My Knees

I was walking down the grocery store aisle when the airy truth hit me: my thighs no longer rub together when I move.

 I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but after my upper legs were practically Siamese twins in fat and friction for decades, I wasn’t arguing. I was, however, about to topple head-first into the fruit juice display because I was so focused on how I was walking that I suddenly couldn’t walk because I was paying too much attention to it.

The fact that I can feel a breeze between my knees isn’t the only strange side effect of weight loss. After three years of effort and finally whittling myself from a size 24 to a size 10, I’ve discovered some things about myself.

Like loose skin. Oh yes. When you lose 100 pounds, you don’t snap back into shape like Stretch Armstrong.  If I stood naked in a stiff breeze, I could take off like Rocky the Flying Squirrel. I always look like I have my sleeves rolled up, even if I’m wearing a tank top.  Toning exercises and passing time help, but I may always look rumpled. I’m not hiding behind long-sleeved shirts and peasant skirts, though. I’ve come too far for that. In fact, I may paint myself with the stars and stripes, hold onto a flagpole and wave as people salute my flapping patriotism in the Independence Day parade.

I’ve also gone through an age-inappropriate clothing phase. Let me just say that if you saw me in a tube top and mesh tights about thirty pounds ago, I’m sorry. I may have frightened you from ever buying a bag of oranges again. But something happens to a woman when she fits into garments that don’t have a single X in front of the L on the label, even if she is past 40. The foray into thong underwear was also regrettable, mainly because every time I stood up, I had a surprised look on my face. 

It takes time to settle down and appreciate jeans that fit properly without flaunting a camel toe or butt crack. Time, and a few biting remarks from the church ladies running the bake sale. It’s all worth it, though, every raised eyebrow or “Bless her heart.” The weight loss journey was one of self-realization, and I realized I really can’t pull off the crop top and tie-dyed leggings look like I did when I was eighteen.  I’ve even moved on to a new hobby, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I need to learn how to walk in high heels so I can cross my legs with style. That would call for a new pair of shoes, of course.

Know what goes with high heels? A bikini. Okay, maybe I haven’t learned my lesson yet.  Cover your eyes, Grandma, I’m going shopping.

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