Your Legs are Sexy

"Your legs are sexy. They have spider veins and cellulite and so what? They are strong and I love them."

I just returned from my honeymoon. A real-live beach vacation with my love. And, not just the beach, not just wonderful in ways I’ll never be able to describe, but also – and what my focus is here – it was 11 days in a BIKINI. That's no small thing. There were literally decades that I would not be seen in a bathing suit. Years of my youth where my self-esteem was so low and grounded in such misery that I declined many invitations, missed out on many outings, many opportunities for fun, joy, play. I spent the majority of my life very overweight, depressed and in a great deal of emotional pain. It's the past, and yet I mourn those years and I forgive myself, too. And now, at 50 years old, I can finally say I spent those 11 days in Mexico with my husband giving no fucks about my cellulite, wrinkles, or flaws. I enjoyed every moment of it and I had a renewed appreciation for this body and all it has given me. I swam, I walked the beach, I ate guacamole every day, I drank as many beers as I wanted and I had FUN. I didn’t cover up, I didn’t hide and hope my lover would see me in “the right light” or that my sarong would cover the parts I don’t favor ( I never even wore one ), and instead I just let myself BE and let my body BE and it was so liberating and powerful……

And, on a day when my new husband and I were feeling particularly safe, open and loving, he gave me an unexpected and impactful compliment on features of my body I have struggled the most with – my hips and legs. He admired and honored them in a way that no other man (or I) ever have. He gave me solid reasons to see them differently, to appreciate them and upon hearing his beautiful, honest and raw assessment of them, I DID change my mind about them and also, got a deeply meaningful piece about my entire body. I’d like to share it.

MY BODY IS A ROAD MAP OF MY LIFE. I actually said this that night, in response to his comments, in celebration of them. When I was about to write this just now, I Googled it thinking of course I am not the only one who has thought/said this. I was right. I found several people online who have reached this idea, written about it. I love it.

What I know and really get now more than I ever have: each curve, each line, every scar, bump, lump, bruise and imperfection are the sweet reminders of a life lived fully.

Of MY LIFE. There is literally not another body on this planet identical to mine. That's holy. That's exquisite in itself, if I let it be.

And, in my life thus far, I have had my share of pleasure and pain and it’s evident... on my legs, my hips, my whole body. And that’s OK. That's pretty cool if I say it is. And I do.

I have a beautifully irregular scar where my son was brought into the world during a high risk and unavoidable C-section. I am thankful for that scar, because it is the portal for his entry into this life, and I worked very hard to get him here. I have spider veins in my legs. A lot of them – something I apparently inherited from my mother and as unsightly as they might be, they are but one of a very few reminders of her these past 42 years since her passing, and so I honor them and appreciate them. It’s a part of her I carry with me, and so it is. I also have very wide & crooked feet with bunions, another family trait among the women. I wear men's shoes and fit into very few women's styles and that's just fine. My feet are strong, solid and grounded and give me balance. I used to be ashamed of them. Now I love them.

Since I was 21 years old I've been going gray and I have fought that since that first day I saw one. One day soon I’ll stop that fight and let those be as well. I have scars both external and internal from multiple surgeries, including 5 miscarriages and the loss of a late term baby girl named Una. That scar is inside, and deeper than most. And I am at peace with it. I appreciate the depth of sorrow I got to feel and how much gratitude I have that I did finally get to have my son.

I have a tiny scar below my bottom lip where I tried shaving once as a child. I have faint scars from my days as a tomboy and the many skateboarding accidents that went along with it.

I have had an umbilical hernia, brought on by an awful case of bronchitis where I coughed so hard I torn my abdominal wall behind my navel, and now I have a scar just below my belly button to prove it. I have a scar from the year I had a pierced naval, finally taking it out after my body gave me enough hints that it wasn't for me. I have had a torn labrum and bone spurs in my hip and have a near perfect triangle of scars on my upper thigh/hip area where a wonderful surgeon gave me back my walk without pain. Only two years ago I could barely walk. Now, I have scars and I can RUN.

I have years of sun damage, I have laugh lines I have thankfully earned and love. I have frown lines as well, that show the decades of worry that were my youth. I have had multiple oral surgeries and have scars in my mouth including one that caused permanent nerve damage. I am OK with all of this. It comes with having a body. My body. And, something I have shared with very few: I chose to have surgery three years ago that resulted in the loss of a lifetime worth of unwanted and unhealthy excess weight, something I thank myself for. It was a huge act of self-love for me and it gave me a second chance at life. It was horrifically painful and it was worth it, as it freed me in so many ways. I am not thin now, but I am healthy and comfortable in my body - something I had only dreamt of before making that choice. And, once inside, the surgeon found something alarming that had gone unseen and he was able to repair it. I'm thankful for that.

Here and there I do indeed show my age, in the new lines that are showing up regularly, the dryness of my skin, the slight sag of my breasts and the beginnings of arthritis in my left hand.

And IT'S ALL BEAUTIFUL and I DON'T WANT TO CHANGE IT. Truly. It humbles me, amuses me and reminds me of how big and juicy, tough and intense, sweet and wonderful my life has been and I’ll carry these flaws, and hopefully more, as I go. I want to embrace and flow with my aging body and I want to remember that every new scar, wrinkle or line is a badge of honor, it's my proof that I am still ALIVE. That's a gift. And, to go further, frankly perfection is boring. Sure, a gorgeous body is fun to look at. I do it, we all do. I can appreciate another body while still appreciating and celebrating mine. And I can choose to see mine as no less perfect, no less beautiful. I get to decide to embrace my house, just as it is.

I also have tattoos. Five of them so far. So far.... They are scars of their own kind. Self-inflicted, yes, and I love them. They each have a story as well, of my life events, my growth and milestones. Each one has deeply significant meaning to me and I look at them as reminder of my growth and expansion.

I can imagine that if I am fortunate enough to live to be 100, I’ll be covered in tattoos, wrinkles and scars, full of memories, and my grandchildren can sit and trace the lines on my body as I tell them the story of my life.

©2017 M Kyle Hollingsworth & Kyle-Creative