Thursday, June 26, 2008

"Chunky legs" was the name that my brothers sometimes called me when we were growing up. I would like to say it was what they affectionately called me, but I have a hard time believing there was any affection involved. They were aware of how self conscious I was over my stockier build and less than glamorous length of legs, but did that stop them? No! There was even a time when my brother, Jon started in with the name calling and I warned him that if I heard "chunky legs" one more time, I would have to pin him down with my ever so muscular legs and beat him to a pulp. Did he persist? You betcha and the beatings began. I can't say that I beat him to a bloody pulp , but I did make him cry. I'm not sure why I'm writing this because I'm not really proud of this story since I see myself as a non-violent humanitarian, but I felt it was necessary to illustrate my sensitivity on this subject.
But that was then and this is now. Years later I have come to grips and am at peace with the body shape in which the Good Lord has given me (and I think that Jon has forgiven me for the beating as well). And to prove it, I have chosen to title my blog, "Chunky Legs". I dedicate this title to all women out there that no matter how many miles they run will always be "blessed" with short, stocky legs and to my five younger brothers whom, despite their insensitive name calling, I still dearly love.