I bought a new pair of gym shorts this week. Unfortunately,
it wasn’t because I’d lost so much weight that my old ones were too big. (Oh,
how I wish!) Nope. I had to buy new shorts because I’d worn holes in the old
ones—near the inseam, where my thighs rub together.
My face is burning bright red with embarrassment from typing
the last four words of that paragraph. I can’t even bring myself to say those
words out loud. Of everything I dislike
about my size and my body, that tops the list.
More often than not, I have to replace pants, sweats, and
shorts not because they’re too big or too small but because my rubbing thighs
have rubbed their way through the material. I have a pair of denim shorts that
are approaching that point now.
And it’s not just the wear on my clothes that bother me. When I wear pants—especially jeans—my rubbing thighs make a swooshing
sound as my pant legs rub against each other. In any quiet place, you’d be able
to hear me coming before I ever enter the room or turn the corner. The
swoosh-swoosh gives me away every time. It's mortifying.
Dresses and skirts are also problematic because of my
thighs. When I wear them, my thighs get all
sticky and sweaty from rubbing against each other, even when the weather is
cool. It’s downright uncomfortable, to say the least.
As I write this, I can hear my mother’s voice in my head
telling me, “Well, you know what to do about that.” Yes, I do--and I'm trying to do it. But it’s far easier
said than done.
I have been exercising regularly for more than a year and have
dropped 1 dress/pants size. Still, though, my thighs touch. I have no idea how
much exercise I have to do or how much weight I have to lose to turn my thighs
into separate, distinct, not-touching entities. But I cannot wait until I get there.