But now I have ‘cankles’. I used to have these legs and other bits that I took for granted; as they say in the song, you only miss it when it’s gone. I had long legs; I used to have ballet lessons and am sure that helped. Summer holidays I threw on the shorts and flashed my legs when I wore my bathers. All through the late 60s and 70s I wore minis, hot pants and split skirts. Never taking much notice – after all the legs were just part of me – I wore whatever I wanted and had no shame. Oh what a hussy that girl with the legs was!
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I envy that girl, that woman, and she is no longer the person I see reflected back at me. No – there is this rather podgy woman, with legs twice the thickness they once were. The ankles are lost, gone forever. I thought that if I lie back on the bed and put my legs up the wall it would help, I would have better slimmer legs. Instead my husband wanted to know what I had been reading. Was it Karma Sutra? Anyway no change happened, no effect whatever. What about those ‘support stockings’? I mused. Well, I tried to put some on, took me a while to get them out of the package even. Then I tried to do the contortions needed to get them on. I almost gave myself a hernia trying to get both feet in the tight elastic. Then as I wriggled and squirmed I at last got them on. I had almost gone headlong across the bedroom floor, but had success. I dressed in some rather flash new trousers, ready to go out I walked down the path, only to feel that awful sensation of the panty hose rolling down to my thighs. They had decided not to help my cause, instead I now had a funny walk and a bulge of flesh above my legs. Failed again.
The only small success I have had is to use some men’s airline socks, trouble is they are black. They were fine under trousers and in boots in the winter, but now they don’t do much for my white summer look. So guess I am stuck with cankles, I would have been better in Victorian times, when a flash of ankle drove a man insane, so you kept them covered. Mine would not do that now, they would bring on nausea instead. I could go on about losing my slender arms too, but when you look at the whole none of it matters, I am still here lumpy bits and all. I shall just have to buy a large kaftan and float about like a galleon in full sail.
Which bit of your body was your pride and joy once? Tell us below.