Ugh. Whose legs are those?

Up until about two years ago, I didn't wear shorts unless I had to. And 90% of my dresses were long. I hated hate my legs. I joke that I have giant man legs and no ankles.

I finally reached a point where I realized that shorts were an evil necessity. So, I now own a pair.

Literally. I have one pair of shorts.

I have more short dresses now, because summer in Wisconsin can be a "touch" warm and I got a big case of the fuck-its and decided that comfort mattered more than how I looked.

Since Fall is fast approaching here in Milwaukee, I decided this morning would be a good dress day. (Who knows how many we have left!)

I grabbed my favorite orange dress and added accessories that I really like. I looked in the mirror and loved how the top half of me looked. And then I look at my legs.

"Ugh. Whose legs are those? They can't be mine. Those legs are ugly and I hate them."

As I drove to work (still in my dress) I thought a lot about "those legs".

"Those legs" helped me run 1.25 miles this morning.

"Those legs" let me swim every week and keep moving me faster and faster as I get better.

"Those legs" got me down the isle to marry my husband.

They may not be pretty, they may not be model worthy, but they are pretty amazing. They help me accomplish amazing goals. They help me walk my dogs, or enjoy a beautiful day. They let me play bocce ball when we go camping or to stand and groom dogs. They do an awful lot for me, maybe it's time I stopped being so hard on them.

So here I am with my amazing legs. It doesn't matter what they look like, or if they don't fit into the mold I think they should. They have helped me to do marvelous things. I wonder what we will do together tomorrow?