Life Lesson No. 857, 351

YOUR THIGHS! Oh my God, your thighs! 

… this blurted like I was some kinda star walking the red carpet …

YOUR THIGHS!

There I was, quietly making my way through the fresh veggies section of a little store in South Carolina where I was on sabbatical. Trying to figure out life in the last half of 2020, I took a trip from my home state of New York and landed on the beautiful east coast side of SC. Gorgeous. No doubt a trip I will repeat. Hopefully with less angst, but one never knows what life will unpack.

I had recently retired from teaching exercise. A personal fitness trainer for 28 years, I felt the nudge to close up shop in late 2019 and venture into lands unknown. It was a scary jump. Owning my gym and crunching-sweating-sometimes-cussing beside others was all I ever knew. It had been my primary income as well as my main source of social interaction.

I found myself in the last half of 2020 uncomfortably sans income, sans community, sans any freakin’ clue as to the next lily pad’s whereabouts.

YOUR THIGHS!

As I pondered over whether to get two or three avocados, the store clerk nearly dropped her step ladder (I’m not exaggerating… she was very theatrical) as she proclaimed to, well, e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e in the fresh foods section of the market: YOUR THIGHS!

God bless her outgoing self, she threw her arms out to the sides and started waving her hands… YOUR THIGHS! And she pulled down her mask — true story — and began to dance around the oranges bin.

The woman was celebrating my thighs.

Celebrating.

My.

Thighs.

This was profound to me… as I had never celebrated them before, always seeing them as “big, muscular, kinda guy-ish.” Ashamed, I’ve been. And have lifelong walked around with this vibe of apologizing for them. Like, “hi, I’d like to mail this package and I’m just so sorry about my thighs” and “hey there, here to pick up my order and, yes, I am sorry about my thighs.”

It was what I knew to do. Feel guilty. Remarks made to an impressionable child hold fast, don’t they though?

Jesus (that’s what I’ve come to call her as she performed some kinda miracle in me) stepped in close to me. “What do you do to have such awesome thighs? Squats, right? I mean, like, tons of squats, amIright?”

I proceeded to agree, somewhat lightheaded and giggly. And then the personal trainer in me emerged (which just goes to prove that you can take the girl out of the gym but not the gym out of the girl) and we began a lesson on how to squat properly. (She enthusiastically – of course – promised she would and thanked me as I left in search of hummus.)

She may not have strong thighs (yet) but she did single-handedly bust something wide open in me, though. My thighs…

I started feeling proud of them. MY thighs.

I felt their strength. MY Thighs.

I could finally see their beauty. MY THIGHS.

“Hi there, I am ready to check out… yep, me and my delicious thighs.” (This did, in fact, garner an odd look from the cashier and the dude behind me in line. I’m super okay with it.)

There’s been so much that has changed in my life – in  all of our lives – in 2020… this shift in the perspective of my physical form is high on my list. I have come to better respect and honor my body. No longer do I try to mold my form into some acceptable shape (according to who?) I have come to understand that the value of my body is in its allowing me to experience my life here on earth. Without this body, well, I’d be dead and not here and thus not experiencing taking FurButt for her walk, making cookies with Daughter, making love to Husband, weeping with In-laws, playing cards with Bestie, hugging Sons 1, 2, 3, and 4. And that would suck.

And so, I’m not so surprised that the way I have been exercising in the past couple of months has shifted as well. I find myself kinder, gentler, a better listener (how do you want to move today, bod? And what do you want to eat?) With this in mind, I attach here a video I created to strengthen the core. I like my upbeat but gentle approach. I still run, lift weights, eat cookies. But I listen now. And feel like I’m allowed to be here.

All of me. Even, and perhaps most especially, my thighs.

Amen.

Writing Every Day Down.

Hugs,

Lisa

Lisa Augustine, Life Guide

Available By Appointment