An open letter to my thighs:

Dear thighs,
I truly adore the trunkiness that you are

Like roots of tree limbs that climb up from the ground

And take me where I need to go.

Now thighs,
I know we’ve had our problems in the past

But it was me, not you.

There is nothing wrong with you.

I’m just sick.

Really, I am sorry for the scars

The messy, sloppy, bleeding.

That sort of thing.

I appreciate you now.

I don’t mind that your thick

I don’t mind that you touch,

In fact I rather like that.

You stick together better than anyone I know.

So thighs, here is to you

You scarred up

Tattooed mess.

You fit my hips so well

And stick together so well

And look so pretty in tights and shorts.

Dear thighs,

Here’s to you.