All my life, I have had a love/hate relationship with my legs. It's hard to grow up with a brother who can't walk and not appreciate your legs' ability to take you from place to place. My legs do things my brother can't even imagine. That has never been lost on me.
However, my legs are not now, nor have they ever been, my favorite feature. I carry a lot of weight (and by weight I mean cellulite, fat, jiggle, cottage cheese) in my thighs. So much so that pants shopping is a chore. (Thank God for Maurice's Orchid Boot Cut Jeans!) My legs are (can I type this out loud?) ugly. My calves are thick (making it difficult to indulge my love of boots) and my knees are literally a pain.
But these legs are mine, and I choose to love them. Sometimes when I'm doing my post-workout stretching, I look down at my knees and I literally say "thank you" to them, for holding me up through the exercises. I think they appreciate it.
The thing is, my legs are strong. They are capable. They do so many amazing things for me, just because I ask them to. They do things I didn't think were possible! They run. They kick. They dance. Soon, they will climb walls. They make it possible for me to get through each day. They are not perfect, but they work perfectly. They allow me to end a day with thoughts of, "I'll be damned, look at what my body did for me today!"