The Thighs Have It

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.