Body

It's no secret I'm discontent with my body.  I could enumerate the ways, but what fun is that?

I confess I'm a thigh-watcher.  I always look at women's (and on the rare occasion men's) thighs.  And there is some comparison there even though I know that's a bad, bad, bad thing to do.  I so wish I was one of those women who have thinner thighs; whose thighs don't rub together when they walk; who don't have to replace jeans because of specific worn out spots.  (Do men have this problem?)

Isn't it true the camera adds a minimum of 10 pounds?

I was doing pretty well until lately.  Something happened.  Don't know exactly what.  But about the time I discovered the bathroom scales were out of whack, I started noticing a strange swish, swish when I walk.  Yep, those thighs of mine are starting to reach out to each other.  I think they think they want to be best friends or something.

Wish I knew what to do to make them enemies and shrink away from each other.  It can't be that I eat too much.  Or that I like chocolate.  Or that I don't exercise enough.  Must be my age.  Or my slow metabolism.  Or my genes.  Whatever....I won't be able to have a career in anything that requires stealth.  They'll hear me coming.