July 12

If there were ever any popular female aesthetic trend to take the prize for “stupid,” thigh gap has to be it.

It took me a while to decide whether I wanted to write this article at all.  Part of me feels that thigh gap deserves no acknowledgement, it is seriously that stupid, but after some consideration I decided to include it.

I might not give even one rat’s ass about thigh gap, but others do.

To those of you that disregard thigh gap comments or concerns in the same way you would the weather in China, HIGH FIVE.  Well done.  Keep doing what you’re doing, because you’re doing it right.

To those of you that hear thigh gap comments or concerns and sigh, roll your eyes, feel steam roll out  your ears, or are overcome by a sense of irritation that rivals lemon juice in a canker sore, FIST BUMP.  I do the same.

To the rest of you…  Just read.

Thigh gap is, without any doubt, the worst measure of anything healthy.

It is the worst measure of anything PERIOD.

It is not a measure of sexy.

It is not a measure of beauty.

It is not a measure of worth, dignity, attractiveness, femininity, weight, athleticism, or health.

It is proven fact that when your adductor longus and gracitis muscles (the two major muscles of the inner thigh) reach a certain level of swolt, your thigh gap disappears, because the muscles smash together from sheer awesomeness.

It is proven fact for some (me in particular) that when they gain weight, they gain it at the upper thigh, waist, and hips.  If I put on five pounds, two of them go to my stomach, one goes to my ass, and one goes to each leg, right at the crotch.

ALSO THIS.

These two pictures were taken about four minutes apart.  The only thing I changed was the way I was standing.

(oh, I guess I did hitch my shirt up for the second, otherwise same-same.)

Thigh gap is so completely arbitrary, so absolutely ridiculous, and SO NOT EVEN WORTH ONE IOTA OF OUR TIME, it would behoove us to forget it’s even a thing.

…easier said than done, right?

I know.  For me, too.

As an anorexic, the picture on the right kind of freaks me out a little bit.  I have a “?!?” reaction to it, even though I know better, even though I know it doesn’t matter, and even though I was standing like a knob to get that result.

Doesn’t matter.  Still sends tingles of fear and dread through my guts and head.

It is so easy to say “thigh gap is dumb, it doesn’t matter, it’s not a good measure of anything.”

It is not even a little bit easy to stop caring.

[“So how do we stop caring?  How do we let go of a societal expectation in order to recognize our own beauty?”]

Practice.  :)

And pictures, then looking at them.  The Body Image Project, this one or one of your very own.

By learning to love ourselves for what we are, instead of hating ourselves for what we are not.

By surrounding ourselves with those who see our true Greatness, even if we can’t see it ourselves,

and by demanding from ourselves to

I will be totally honest – I love being slim.  I love the way my body feels at 140 lbs, and I am less comfortable and less content with life inside my skin when I way 160.  I think I’m finally to the point now where I can say “I like being smaller” not because of Ana, but because I live a very active, very busy life, and the trimmer and stronger and healthier I am, the easier it is to engage in it.

Does that mean I am worth less at 160?  Absolutely not.

Does that mean I am worth MORE at 140?  Nope.

Does that mean I am sexier, prettier, better, or more worth of love and affection when you can see what’s behind me through the gap in my crotch?

UM NO.

….and seriously think about that for a second….

We have started judging ourselves and others by how much of what’s behind someone we can see, through the gap in their crotch.

OF ALL THE THINGS IN ALL THE PLACES.

Maybe we start looking into ourselves and other people, instead of at, past, and through.

BOOM.

Thank you so much for reading.  Share your pictures if you can, and if not take some for just yourself.

Your heart and head and future self will thank you.

Love,

e

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