A thank-you letter to my thighs

Dear thighs,

You have been through a lot: my mom calling you ‘a little heavy, dear.’ hearing my dance teacher telling me that you looked ‘masculine,’ because I was using you wrong for extensions. the insult of ‘thunder thighs’ from junior high school girls. The horrible ugly and baggage-ridden tattoo I placed on you in a fit of rebellion because my fiance at the time told me he thought tattoos were stupid.


But you’ve always come through for me.

Even when the rest of my legs began to behave in baffling ways: the left knee buckling for absolutely no discernible reason, the right foot dropping in a way that made it feel as if the earth had reached up to slap the bottom of my foot, you kept on plugging away.

When I realized that I could still bicycle years ago, you took me everywhere: to the movies, to work, to the lake, to friends’ houses, bar hopping, out with family on the Greenway.

You even come through for me when I have a flare-up and my entire body feels sluggish and heavy. You hold me up in my wheelchair; you rally and hoist me up when I need to reach things on high shelves no matter how exhausted you are, or how heavy I get.

But I have not been good to you, dear thighs. I have not been good to you this past year and a half at ALL. I have neglected you. I have ignored you. I have plopped you down in front of the television and in the driver’s seat of cars and kept you still.

But what did you say when 394 became mostly closed and I asked you to carry me and my ancient laptop and a pannier of clothes to and from work 13 miles away?

“Okey doke,” you said. (You speak in the sort of dopey, deep, voice cartoons give faithful big dogs.)

And then you just kept going and going. This week, despite all of my neglect of you, you churned your way steadily through 80 miles. EIGHTY MILES.

I am in awe of you. I do not deserve such steady, faithful companions. And yet there you are. I am so lucky.

Hell, yes you are thunderous. You are mighty. I raise my water bottle to you.

PS As for you, butt and twat: I have nothing but abject apologies. Nobody needed to do you wrong like that.

Published by haddayr

Writer, parent, cripple, queer; worker, dancer. City dweller. Bicyclist. I love whiskey, tea, and cussing.

6 thoughts on “A thank-you letter to my thighs

  1. What fabulous thighs! It’s lovely to read this paean of praise! (and I’m glad you entertained representation from parts higher on the body).

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