Shame.

It’s a bitch, isn’t it?

How many times does shame affect the choices we make? How often are we pulled to do something out of fear of being shamed, or trying to avoid shame?

How much shame are we holding in our bodies, about our bodies?

Parts that we don’t like. That aren’t good enough.

What if we could release shame and hold space for complete self-acceptance?

Even if we want to change how we feel in our bodies (be more fit, lose weight, whatever), we can still hold space to accept ourselves exactly as we are right now, and not shame ourselves because we’re not something different.

I have always felt shame about my thighs. They’re too big, rub together too much, have too much cellulite...now as I age I’m seeing the little clusters of “spider veins” appear, which my Nana always complained about and felt very ashamed of. She’d put makeup on them, or wear nude panty hose (back when one did such things), even on a hot summer day.

In a way it actually makes me like them more because they make me think of her. A reminder that I’m carrying part of her with me throughout my life, always.

So anyway, lately it’s been occurring to me...what have my legs ever done to deserve such animosity? Such vitriol?? Because in fact, my legs have carried me everywhere I’ve gone for the past 37 years. I think they deserve some appreciation! Some kindness! Some lovin!!

So I’m wondering, for myself, what would it be like to drop the story around my legs. What would it be like to appreciate and LOVE my thighs? The way they rub, the way they get prickly a day after shaving, the stretch marks, the cellulite...THE WHOLE SHEBANG! Just STRAIGHT LOVIN’ ON ‘EM.

I think they deserve that after all the hard work they’ve done.