Muses

Musing on scary legs. Winter white legs.

I fell for the wear-black-leggings-to-workout-in trick.

I knew my legs suffered by not being able to run for the last six months.

But I had gotten serious about weight-training and regularly attended spin class — at least once every three weeks. And they looked fine in exercise gear.

This weekend was the first really warm weekend. The kind that makes you rummage around and unearth articles of clothing you forgot existed.

I found a pair of shorts. They went on fine. They zipped up fine — which is always a relief. I looked down.

*Gasp.*

I walked…

SCREAM.

Parts of my leg did wiggly, jiggly stuff. Big Parts.

My skin was translucent — other than huge bruises.

Those damnable workout pants. They hold stuff in and smooth stuff out. Leaving you thinking things are fine. Thinking that you are doing better than average for a woman of your station in life.

Dear God in heaven…when did this happen? I had no idea things were so bad.

I need to be out on my bike — to firm and colorize legs. Who am I kidding?

Maybe I’ll just never look down again?

Yes, I’ll be so much happier if I never look down again.

I’ll fashion one of those collars they make dogs wear so they can’t scratch their ears — or bother body parts.