Our story begins, dear reader, at my gym induction the other day (pause for reaction) when the lovely attractive gym man asks my friend and I if we tend to do cardio traing or weights… Obviously the answer is neither but I opt for cardio as weights are for the men, right? Wrong apparently, attractive gym man explains, because apparently “women cant build up that much muscle”. I’m sorry have you seen my thighs? if I started weight training I’d turn into a bodybuilder. Actual science fact, I got tested and turns out I have above average levels of testosterone for a woman- yay… basically the medical way of saying “you’re a bit on the butch side, love”.
So whilst relaying this fun annecdote to the boyfriend in bed and rabbiting on again about how I will never have skinny thighs and I’ve just come to accept it (how this is pillow talk I will never understand but somehow we got onto it) he said possibly the most romantic thing I have ever heard.
“But I like your thighs, they’re sexy”
My thighs, MY thighs, are sexy!
Finally, someone who accepts me for my thighs. The mind baffles, it really does. Naturally, being the tactless fool I am my response wasn’t something affectionate and nice. Oh no, I actually punched the air and told him “I’m going to put that on my blog!” Then the next day he took me out for a kfc- how very unhealthy, who cares? My thighs are sexy apparently! HA!
I Have Nice Ankles But Don't Look At My Thighs 