Recently a dear friend suggested that I delete the word “big” to describe my calves from an essay I’d written. She said that I didn’t need to self-deprecate. I deleted it, but that got me to thinking, “Wait a minute. I was not intending to be self-deprecating. I just wanted to describe my calves.” They are bigger than some and smaller than others. I will not need to ask Lloyd’s of London to insure them. In addition to their size, they are scarred, laced with varicose veins and speckled with brown spots.
I was not using the word big in a good or bad sense. I was simply using it to describe my calves, as compared to others’. My granddaughter even commented that I have hefty calves and asked if I’d been working out. She said that with a sense of amazement, not derogatively.
When I was a younger woman, I was embarrassed by my legs. My calves were clearly larger than most of my friends. After childbirth, the varicose veins surfaced. I seldom went out in public in shorts, regardless of how hot it was. If I wore a skirt or dress, I always wore stockings to camouflage my legs. I’ve worked at getting to a place of loving, kindness and acceptance for my body. Particularly at my age, I celebrate how my body serves me. Those calves allow me to hike and swim. They allow me to shop for hours with my daughters. The support me when I pick up my great-grandchild.
Words like fat or big are only shaming when you believe that fat or big is shameful. My boobs are large, my ass is flat, my skin is flabby and my calves are big. Why not love all of me? I do
majokmindfuleating 