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Today, I did something I had never done before: I decided not to delete a picture where I had my legs crossed and wasn’t wearing pants or leggings.

That may not seem like much, but if any ladies who are thick of thigh are reading this, you’re probably realizing how significant this is: When a woman with exceptionally large thighs crosses her legs, oftentimes, it produces a “cottage cheese” effect, where the cellulite in her thighs is made extremely prominent by her crossing her legs.

My aunt took a picture of me in such a fashion today, sitting at a park bench pretending to hand-feed a statue of a crow on the bench. I crossed my legs in it, and when I saw the photo, I could see my thighs with the cellulite showing. My first instinct was “Ugh, I look disgusting!” and a desire to delete the picture from my aunt’s camera.

But I stopped, and looked at the rest of the picture. I was smiling in it, laughing and mugging shamelessly for the camera, enjoying the thought of feeding that  bronze crow. The movement in the picture was fluid and natural, and it reflected the moment: I was having a good time and enjoying myself. Why would I want to delete that just because of my offending thighs? My thighs were part of the whole package, part of the picture of me having a grand old time.

So I didn’t delete the picture. And I’m not going to feel self conscious or silently admonish myself to lose weight when I see it next time. I’m going to remember what a fun day it was, think about how I enjoyed myself and loved spending time with my aunt. That’s what that picture is all about. It’s not meant to be a reflection of how good I am at shielding my thighs from looking less than perfect.

Same for any other slight deviation from perfection I see in a photo of me in the future. No more anxiously worrying about how chubby my tummy looks when I’m sitting in a picture, or wondering if I will have a double chin, or a shiny, oily face, or zits. Enough’s enough, and I won’t let self consciousness override having a grand old time.

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