There is a certain region on women that doesn’t seem to exist on men. It certainly didn’t exist on me for most of my life….but I noticed something different–a growth, perhaps?
I think I blurted out my thoughts on the subject about a year ago at work, and it came out in the form of, “I think my butt is resting on my thigh.” Yes, it is a confusing theory, but I know it’s true. Be it weight, gravity, or the tautness of my skin, something has ‘given way.’ No charade of lunges or strength training seems to make it go away. And it’s hard to target as it doesn’t technically have a region. It is not my high hamstring, or my lower gluts it’s my buttocks-thing…it’s my b’thigh.
Of course, I run. I should be as svelte as a board and the cottage cheese theory should only be something I acknowledge on my plate. But (no pun intended),as it turns out, being endowed with what is typically known as an exceptionally feminizing characteristic can backfire (again, no pun). More curves=more for gravity to tug. And running itself seems to be causing the up and down motion that’s exacerbating the issue. Ironic, no?
I just came off the treadmill on an incline-only run in another queer attempt to create sore muscles that would temporarily make me forget that the are was indeed still not firm. I made my way over to the stretching area where I was hanging over my legs in a very politically incorrect way, just trying to stretch out my hamstrings. A young man is tearing it up with the barbell next to me. Before he gets up to start his next circuit, he asks if I want to use the barbell. I laugh and shake my head, taking it for a poor pickup line (I have been negligent in remembering my wedding rings). He looked surprised. Apparently he had been serious about it. I looked at myself in the mirror, derriere held high, head hanging low. Perhaps he had noticed my b’thigh.
I have slept with Spanx on. Considered saran-wrapping myself for my own private “body wrap” session. Oh the perils of having a b’thigh!