Miss Chicken Legs

A few days ago I was feeding my succulent, double-chinned two-month-old, and my legs were crossed in such a way that pulled my skirt tight around one ankle. The bottom half of my leg looked like I was wearing black leggings. Before I knew it, my brain took me back in time, to a place I never wanted to see again- high school.

I hated high school. I mean, really hated it. But that loaded subject is for another time. Instead, I’ll talk about what was going on in that crazy head of mine.

In high school, I was a typical girl who wore typical clothes- way too tight, way too short, and way too revealing. Each morning I did the typical girl thing and lamented over the fact that I had no clothes to wear as I spent nearly an hour trying on different combinations of clothes. Is it any wonder that I was notoriously late every single day?

Here’s the strange part- well, not so strange, really. To be honest, I had a nice body. I was always skinny and curvy. However, there was one flaw that I never got over. I was never happy with my lack of calf muscles. My thighs were disproportionate to my calves- hence the term, “Miss Chicken Legs.”

I used to waste hours and hours in futile attempts to balance out the top and the bottom of my legs. I tried to pull this way and that, but to no avail. My legs refused to change their shape. I tried to exercise to magically grow my calves and shrink my thighs, but my stubborn legs did not give in to my demands.

I resented my mother for having given me her legs, and my father for not having given me his legs. I resented my sister, who, even though she didn’t have calves either, was taller and had a straighter figure, so it wasn’t as obvious on her. I resented my brother, who had the nicest legs of all of us.
Fast forward 20 years (yikes!) and five children later. My body is in post-birth stage, and my calves are still non-existent. But here’s the difference: it doesn’t bother me! And why doesn’t it bother me?

Because I can’t see my legs!

I wear floor-length skirts day and night, so I forget that I don’t have calves. Actually, my skirts do some kind of weird optical illusion, where they make the lower half of my body look proportionate to the upper half. All of my physical flaws are hidden 99% of the time. Hence, I’m not obsessed over them as I once was.

Here’s the point of my seemingly meaningless nonsense: since I have started dressing more modestly, a few good and unexpected side effects have developed. First, I’m not wasting hours in front of the mirror. Second, I don’t need a wardrobe with 25 different kinds of pants- straight pants, skinny pants, low-rise pants, palazzo pants, I could go on and on and on…. Third, I’m not attracting unwanted attention from other men. We all know that’s a recipe for trouble.

And most importantly, I’m not constantly beating myself up. I’m not overly focused on my physical looks and what’s wrong with them. Therefore, the way I view myself has improved tremendously.

The world’s definition of beauty has changed with each generation. These days, to be beautiful means that a girl has to wear tight and revealing clothes. Is it any wonder that so many young women today suffer from eating disorders and low self-esteem? Think about it- what percentage of girls that wear such tight clothes actually have the body to pull it off? 5%? 1%? You know what we call that percentage? Models.

Everyone else is just putting themselves at risk for looking ridiculous, and killing their sense of worth in the process.

Ladies, do you want to feel better about yourselves? Then cover up those legs and put a great big smile on your face! And save the chicken legs for dinner…