Good lord I hate my legs.

Good lord I hate my legs.

I hate their translucence and I hate those damn dimples
Subcutaneous fat that’s worse than pimples
I hate the way they don’t fit together
And I hate that they’re hot from May to September

I hate that shorts come in several length styles
But none of them make my legs seem worthwhile
I hate that there is never a perfect-enough hem
But most of all, I hate that I hate them

They carry me everywhere my heart wants to go
Up mountains, down rivers, and to see the ice floe
They generally take 10,000 steps every day
So why do I continue to hate them this way?

It’s learned behavior and societal bullshit
Because of some cultural norms I won’t ever fit
Just like my uneven tits and the gap in my teeth
More ways I’m convinced that I’ll always be beneath

So I take them on walks and I take them on vacation
I try to believe that some day I’ll embrace them
I put them in a bikini and I try to ignore
All the people who stare when we go ‘down the shore

I ogle the photos I’ve posted while brave
And just keep believing I won’t always be a slave
To convention and believing that any of it matters
And just keep hoping that someday the “rules” shatter