Rubbing Thighs

//Rubbing Thighs

Rubbing Thighs

Recently I had the opportunity to perform in Charlotte at the Comedy Zone, a club located in a sizzling entertainment complex. Every night, lines formed outside of hopping trendy dance clubs that I can not gain access to because I call them “hopping.”

My niece Kathleen came to hang out with me one night and as we walked past some girls in line I commented that the women were all “wearing 3 inch skirts and 6 inch heels.” I was shocked at how skinny their thighs all seemed to be. Women who have a complex about the mass of flesh from the knee to the hip notice these things. My niece told me the trend right now is to get thin enough so your thighs don’t touch.

What? Touchless thighs? I had to know more. I googled the phrase “touching thighs” and once I got through some graphic pictures that made me wish I had phrased my inquiry better, I discovered that there are women who feel disgusted with themselves because they can feel their thighs touching.

Let me tell you something, not only do my thighs rub against each other, if I run too fast I’ll catch on fire. You can ba-da-bump all you want. This is a fact for me. I never ever wear corduroy pants for fear campers would start lining up to toast their marshmallows.

Believe me, I have a complex about my thighs. And my muffin top. And my arms. That’s just the top of the list. My body is a work in progress. I cannot hate it. I’ve been through so much and yes sometimes I navigate the stormy weather of my life with too much chocolate or pasta. I don’t work out as much as I’d like to. I see that every time I step in to a dressing. I see a lifetime of choices that have led to this body -some good, some less than good.

But I have a life that is filled with great memories and so many of them involve food and drink- anchovy pizza with my dad, the fabulous chilaquiles my mom makes, drinking a heart pint of Guinness at a Pub in Ireland with my husband, drinking a glass of Mescato with the late great Wine Diva, Chris Ward Blumer.

So yeah my thighs rub against each other, but I don’t let that rub me the wrong way. Ba-da-bump .