I Cross My Legs
What an odd thing, right?
At work, at home, sometimes in the passenger's seat in the car, I cross my legs.
It's one of those things folks don't think about. Except I do, and always have.
I remember from my tween to teen to young adult years obsessing over it. Trying it. Failing it. It always had to be at the ankle because I did not have the type of body that would allow me to cross my legs. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't elegant. It was more or less disastrous and usually negated the point of why women cross their legs to begin with. So at the ankle it was.
I think it was sometime in February or March that I started crossing my legs. It was a bit awkward at first. I wasn't used to it. I would fidget a lot. Actually, it was because I was fidgeting that I realized that I was doing it (as in, there wasn't a conscious "let's try to cross our legs today!" decision... I just started doing it).
Nowadays, I'm almost never not crossing my legs. And I'm still thinking about it. Not all the time, but folks will stop by to talk to me at work, and tell me at some point "You look fabulous," at which point I start to think about exactly how do I look, and then I realize I'm crossing my legs.
Today I decided to blog about it a little. Maybe to help get it out of my system, so to speak. It's a little thing, but somehow it's a big thing to me. It's part of a world that I didn't belong to nor thought I'd ever belong to. This world, and the bone-having world. Yet, here we are, bone-having and leg-crossing. It's great. Crossing my legs was not on my list, but is certainly my favorite NSV.
29 pounds to go!
At work, at home, sometimes in the passenger's seat in the car, I cross my legs.
It's one of those things folks don't think about. Except I do, and always have.
I remember from my tween to teen to young adult years obsessing over it. Trying it. Failing it. It always had to be at the ankle because I did not have the type of body that would allow me to cross my legs. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't elegant. It was more or less disastrous and usually negated the point of why women cross their legs to begin with. So at the ankle it was.
I think it was sometime in February or March that I started crossing my legs. It was a bit awkward at first. I wasn't used to it. I would fidget a lot. Actually, it was because I was fidgeting that I realized that I was doing it (as in, there wasn't a conscious "let's try to cross our legs today!" decision... I just started doing it).
Nowadays, I'm almost never not crossing my legs. And I'm still thinking about it. Not all the time, but folks will stop by to talk to me at work, and tell me at some point "You look fabulous," at which point I start to think about exactly how do I look, and then I realize I'm crossing my legs.
Today I decided to blog about it a little. Maybe to help get it out of my system, so to speak. It's a little thing, but somehow it's a big thing to me. It's part of a world that I didn't belong to nor thought I'd ever belong to. This world, and the bone-having world. Yet, here we are, bone-having and leg-crossing. It's great. Crossing my legs was not on my list, but is certainly my favorite NSV.
29 pounds to go!