Thighs

I’m struggling with my thighs at the moment. 5% of my body, if that, less than 1% of my being, hidden in clothes and never talked about/ brought to attention in conversations. Over past two weeks, I’ve fixated on them, this measly part of my legs, worried that them looking different (bigger) to how they used to be is ‘wrong’, ‘bad’, ‘shameful’; I should be embarrassed for both letting myself down and allowing my body get to 'this point'. I hate saying that out loud - I would never think this of a friend nor have the same opinion; still, I can’t help feel this way.

I mentioned it to my sister, which helped, except the only advice she or anyone else could give me is that my thighs is something only I can learn to accept. Why can't I just accept? Bodies change throughout life, this is my now-body, and it will change again. By trying to fight it I make myself more unhappy by finding so-called quote-unquote flaws and beating myself up for them. Spending too much time analysing and overthinking. Swearing to 'eat less' and 'workout more', 'tone up' again. Thighs first, (arms next - but let's not go there).

I hold myself to such high standards that when I fail to meet them, or notice change - too easy for body dysmorphia, nothing goes amiss - I’m instantly freaked out by what that means. Panic that I'm not attractive enough, pretty enough, good enough to love. I'm not doing well enough to hold myself to what is expected of me. Scared people will be put off because of how I look. How my thighs look.

Even I know I sound ridiculous saying this - and if I were to ask anyone who had seen me recently what they thought, do I really think they would have noticed, or care at all? Of course not. And wouldn't I rather be a weight and size where I don't have to restrict my diet and enjoyment in order to maintain it? Absolutely. (I say confidently, trying not to let the critical voice in, always a flip-a-coin situation; if only I believed my conviction more).