Fat Thighs

Right now, for the first time in my body-image-issue-riddled life, I am in love with some serious fat rolls. Every time that I bathe my daughter or change her clothes or diaper, I am in awe of the adorable rolls of baby fat the cover her perfect little thighs (and circle around her wrists, nestle underneath her chin...). 

Having spent much of my life horrified by "fat," these rolls that I find so adorable and kissable have gotten me thinking a lot about what it means to be a growing girl in the world today--to go from a roly poly baby with thighs for days to a girl who is obsessed with having smaller thighs (or thigh gap) and who is scared of anything and everything resembling fat or cellulite.

As I'm sure you know by now, I've always been a self-conscious person. As far back as I can remember, I was worried about what other people thought of me--I wanted to fit in, to have the right clothes, to arrive on time, to go unnoticed (unless it was for something positive, of course). But I have two very distinct early memories of feeling self-conscious about my body and of being worried about being fat.

The first was on a trip to visit my cousins in Florida when I was in elementary school. I remember dressing in my purple, flowery one-piece swimsuit, then pulling on my shorts and t-shirt, and heading to the beach with the fam.

​When we got there and my cousin took off her cover-up to reveal her tan, thin body in her sunflower-patterned suit, I remember immediately realizing that she was thinner than me--that I was the rounder, paler 10-year old female in our family. I remember feeling ashamed of my body, especially my thighs, and wanting to hide myself, lest everyone see how completely inferior I was to my cousin.

The second memory that sticks out was in gym class (I know, how cliche!), it must have been in 5th or 6th grade, and I remember a bunch of us girls wearing shorts and sitting on a table, our legs too short to reach the floor, so they were dangling over the edge.

If you're not a self-conscious female with bigger-than-you'd-like-thighs you wouldn't necessarily know this, but here's a thing to know: when you sit on something and let your legs hang over the edge and your feet don't touch the floor, your thighs spread out onto the surface on which you're sitting. So no matter what size your thighs are, if you let them relax on a hard surface and look down, they will look much bigger than normal. The muscles and flesh flatten with the pull of gravity, and they're no longer as small as they looked when you were standing up just a moment ago.

​This is what I remember noticing: that when I looked down, my thighs looked huge. I was disgusted by what I saw.

I don't think I ever sat like that again (I'm serious!) and I have many memories of watching other girls sit like that on the edge of a table, on top of a cement wall, on the side of the pool (in their swimsuits, nonetheless!), and always feeling jealous that their thighs didn't look as big as mine did and that they were so comfortable in their bodies.

Later in high school, when I was in treatment for an eating disorder, I remember talking to my therapist about the horror of thighs spreading over a flat surface; I remember her pointing out that everyone's legs did this when they sat down, that this was normal, and thinking that she had no idea how big my thighs were and if she did, she would understand and be simultaneously grossed-out.

And now here I am, many, many years later, a yoga teacher who has learned to love and appreciate her body (thighs and all) and now I have a daughter with thighs of her own; a daughter who I find perfect in every way, and whose rolls make me happier than I ever knew fat could.

As I bathe her little body and carry it in my arms all day long, I've been thinking a lot about how to teach her to love herself just as she is. I want her to love her thighs no matter how big or small they are, I want her to be a 10-year old who wears her swimsuit without thinking twice about how she compares next to her cousins, I want her to sit on a table and not even think about looking down because why would you? I don't want the size of her thighs to even cross her mind! 

​I don't know if it's possible to raise a girl in our society and shelter her from the pressures to look or act a certain way, but I do know that I'm going to try my best to teach her how amazing her body is, how it's important to have strong legs that support you and allow you to run, jump, or hold Extended Side Angle for 20 breaths. I want her to know that she is perfect just as she is and that the size of her thighs don't say anything about who she is as a person.

I don't know exactly how I'm going teach her these things yet, but I'm committed to figuring it out and doing the very best I can to make her feel worthy and strong, despite the messages that our culture sends that tell her otherwise. 
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And until she's old enough to understand, I'm going to continue to kiss the heck out of her chubby little thighs and exclaim at their soft, squishy, roly-poly beauty, because they sure are awe-inspiring.