I Believe POD Prompt...

That's the last prompt for August. I believe. 

I write a lot about what I believe. 

I also already have a fiction piece titled I Believe that became the I Believe series. (one of my favorite things I've written, though honestly everything I write is my favorite)

So I could just leave it and close out the month with only a couple of written pieces to go with photos. 

Or...

I believe that I will write. Every. Single. Times that I decide to rededicate myself to daily writing I really do believe it will happen. And sometimes it even does for awhile. But it's getting harder and harder to tap into that whatever it is that drives the words on to the page. 

But I miss it.

So that's a good sign. 

Usually when I start missing writing I start writing again. Odd right? Like, I know I like to write and I miss it when I don't so; write. But I don't always miss it. Sometimes I don't even think about it except to wonder when the last time I wrote was... But right now I miss it. 

Right now I believe I'm maybe making a difference in the world, at least a small corner of the world. 

Right now I believe there is some sort of fiction piece or collection out there that is just waiting for a break out. 

Right now I believe that I will write.

Which we know how that is going to work out. 

But for today, today I believe. 

Well That's Helpful...

I've bitched about it before and I will probably bitch about it again but the editing that Facebook does for the On This Day feature makes me crazy. I get that they think they are being helpful, that their algorithms tell them that people don't like to think about death, but...

For a few years they would hide the month before, the month of and the month after, my dad died. I'd be cruising along looking at memories from 8 years ago, 7 years ago, 5 years ago...wait what? They did it for probably 5 years before they finally decided that I was ready to deal with the fact that my dad died.  

Now they hide the weeks around Ann's death and the whole month of August from 2019.

And it does exactly the opposite of what I think their robot programming thinks it would do. Instead of protecting you from feeling sad seeing those memories it creates a black hole where you know they should be. They are gone. Just gone.

It reinforces the loss.

And because they are soulless computers they don't understand how everything is tied. So today I got a memory from 12 years ago that Mom was able to stop her chemotherapy two cycles early, but I did not get the post from 3 years ago today which was her last day on this earth. 

Gee. Thanks. 

I mean, the stopping chemo was a great memory. The chemo was killing her faster than the cancer ever would. As evidenced by the fact that she lived almost another decade after stopping. But her last day on this earth was also a good memory. Sad, sure. But good. She was going out on her terms. She was so ready to go. We were all waiting, and honestly hoping it would be today or in two days but not tomorrow. But even though that wasn't what happened, it was still her time. 

They wiped the weeks around Ann's death as well. Which to be honest could be because of Ann or Rex or Matt. It was not a great month. But what they didn't do was notice that all of the posts on Matt's page are memorial posts. Because nobody in his family turned his page into a memorial page Facebook treats it like it's active. So I got a birthday reminder to make sure I sent him a message. Now, to be perfectly fair, it's not like I will ever forget his birthday, and they were also kind enough to show me the "On This Day" from 2020 where I posted about how hard it was to have my birthday and not share it with him for the first time in my entire life. But it's still incredibly frustrating that they won't let me see the days around his death but love shoving a birthday reminder at me.

August is a hard month. The waiting for her to die for weeks was extremely difficult. It has made August much more difficult than May when Ann died, than June when my dad died, than September when Jack died. The lingering. The waiting. The fact that we dealt with her death for weeks before it happened and then we didn't have the funeral until October so it stayed an open wound for months after. It was awful. 

But hiding the memories doesn't make August any easier. It doesn't make the month any better. It doesn't erase what happened. Time will help. Time has already helped. August still sucks but it sucks less this year than it did last year. I imagine in a few years it will be down to just a tiny bit of suckage. But that won't be because I forgot what that month was like. That I forgot how hard the next few months were. It just means I will have found a place to carry that grief. 

I just wish that whoever programmed the On This Day feature for Facebook understood that. 

I am sad because I'm still learning how to carry that grief. And the grief that came on its heels with the pandemic; the grief that came during the pandemic with losing family and friends; the grief that came with sitting with friends who lost their family and friends as well. Ignoring that pain doesn't make it easier. 

Ignoring pain never makes it easier. 

Because pain will not be ignored. Try it and it will come roaring back at you like a birthday wish reminder for a dead friend...

Tomorrow is the worst of the worst of August days.

I'll be facing it full on because hiding it, pretending it didn't happen, none of that is helpful. 

Three years. It's easier every year. 

But it's always going to suck.

I Like to Eat...

That's the Picture of the Day prompt. I like to eat...well in the great before times the answer to that would just be yes. And it still is, really. Just eating doesn't always like me back. 

I like to eat. I like food. I like all sorts of different things. I think eating is a full body joyful experience. I have been known to happy dance over a perfect bite. When asked for my favorite smells freshly baked bread is almost always on the list. I like to eat. 

But...

As you all know I've changed the way I eat so I can feel better. There are foods that just don't agree with me. Joint pain, itching, constipation. It's lovely. So I don't normally eat those things. Even though I really like to eat those things.

I've gone to a quarterly break in normal diet. Not diet like losing weight, temporary, horrible industry, sense of the word, but diet as in my normal eating. Once a quarter I indulge in some sort of gluten or nightshade or a little of both meal. Soup dumplings, pizza, biscuits and gravy. Those have been the last run. The day I eat them I get a little itchy, the next day my joints are all a little puffy, the next day they are all a little sore, the next day I'm full bloat, and then finally a few days later I poop again and all is balanced. 

I had no idea that my chronic constipation was partially caused by gluten until I quit eating it and then went back and had some. I mean I'm never going to be one of those lucky daily poopers but it's a lot better now. I was able to quit the stool softeners the doctor put me on and everything. 

So yeah, I know, nobody wants to hear about my pooping, but it is all part of the better health through eating. 

Which just seems so logical right? Like if you eat better you'll feel better. The challenge has been and still is that the recommendations for what is supposedly better are constantly changing. Eat this! No, never eat that! Eat these things! 

What I've discovered is that we don't train our medical professionals in nutrition to the level we should, most doctors don't know much about eating over and above what we all think we know from the media. Our government recommendations are dictated by the lobbyists. Our "best" nutritional studies are funded by whatever they are trying to get you to eat. Chicken is great for you! (funded by the Chicken Growers of America Institute) How Much Soda is Too Much Soda? (funded by Pepsico) And on and on. 

It's kind of a crap shoot at times. 

Except it's not. Not really. I'll quote Michael Pollan here, "Eat real food. Not too much. Mostly plants." We should all be eating food we recognize as food, not food like substances. Read the labels and better yet buy food that doesn't need labels when you can. Don't eat a lot of meat. Probably best if you don't eat any meat but I know that's a big ask for a lot of us, so how about eat less meat.

And if you are having issues, like I was, joint pain, skin issues, constipation, try a food test. Eat very simply for a couple of weeks. I suggest eliminating meat, dairy, sugar, gluten and nightshades and then add them back in one at a time (meat gets added back in as types, add back in poultry see how that goes, then add back in pork, then beef, then fish). You all know it was a process for me. It took a couple of months to get everything added back in. But that was a couple months, which in the grand scheme of a lifetime isn't much.  

I'm looking at making a few more changes to our diet starting in September (don't try and change your diet while you are stressing out, it's setting yourself up for failure). My blood work came back with my cholesterol a little high again and I've really caved in to just eating all the sugar lately. Those things could very well be related... And we're pretty sure Brent's sugar levels are messed up as well, even though he has not been as "what the fuck" about sugar as I have. 

So starting in September I'll be cutting back on sugar (again) and cutting back on our animal products as well. I'm not going vegan or even vegetarian but I am cutting us back on those things. As much as I hate to admit it, they aren't good for us. And they aren't good for the environment either. Time to make some more changes. 

I like to eat. But I like to live pain free even more. 

So That's What You're Going With?

At times it takes all of my self control not to just get snarky with people. Just trash them. Trash their posts, trash their timelines, trash their opinions, trash their little small minds. It's hard.

But I try to remind myself of what I'm trying to accomplish out in the world. And usually I'm trying to make someone think about an opinion in a different way and once you start snarking that's it. Any chance at reaching them is over. Even if it's snarking at other people around them. 

For instance...(you knew there was a for instance, you aren't new here) A friend of mine made a post yesterday that was uncharacteristic for him. It was frankly small minded and nasty. I asked him for clarity and then kept on with the discussion. Now this post happened to be about education (ostensibly) but was actually about LGBTQ+ bigotry.

In the course of the posts of our discussion his more conservative friends joined in. I got a few laughing reactions. Which is always interesting. I mean, I know it's supposed to mark how absurd you are to them and how dismissive of you they are but it always strikes me as, That's the best you've got? You can't make a rational point so you laugh at mine? Okay... 

Then there was the one where the woman commented under mine that she tuned out after the 19th paragraph. Letting me know that the fact that my response to my friend was too long for her. Too much for her to process. On a post about education.

I believe the kids call that a self own. 

And it was all I could take not to point that out. 

But I didn't because I don't care about her. Not really. I don't know her. Though she seems lovely...

I do care about my friend who made the original post and then another post today where we had another bit of discussion. I care about him and making sure he understands why using pronoun use and drag queens as scapegoats is not okay. How you cannot just plug and play with the new Right Wing Scape Goat and have that be okay. Especially when you aren't Right Wing. 

And that is the Right's specialty. Pushing their rhetoric until people think it's just common knowledge. There was so much BS posted in that discussion thread alone that I had to go bury myself in a copy of The Advocate to clear it all out. 

It makes me crazy. The talking points they've picked up. The soundbite arguments that they some how think are mic drop moments. The mis and dis information that keeps getting churned out. 

But I remind myself that if I can take a few minutes and put something out there that isn't bullshit. That is an actual thought out response instead of a snarky, So that's what you're going with? response maybe just maybe I might change a mind, shift an opinion, make someone think. Make the world a little better. 

But seriously? You can't manage to read a long post about education? 

#54FucksSake

Fifty Four In the Door!

Can you believe it? Another year around the sun. Reading last year's blog and saw the hashtag for 53, which I had forgotten. I set it, and then never used it again. It was a wishful thinking hashtag. #Joyfully53 Isn't that lovely? It was a hopeful one for sure. But even though the year wasn't terrible like a few of the recent ones have been I can't honestly say I reached joyful as consistently as I had hoped for.

But that's okay. One of the other hashtags I flirted with for last year was #StillMeAt53. And I am, or was, I mean I'm still me, I'm just not 53 anymore...

So on with the Birthday Blog! Let's review the year and set some new intentions shall we?

Last year when I posted my thoughts for the coming year I mentioned that I knew there was something big coming that would change a lot in my life. That was Katie coming out. We already knew but she hadn't gone public yet. I knew she would at some point in the year, but wasn't sure when. And I was also pretty sure it would mark a shift in our world. And it did and didn't. Which I am really grateful for. The vast majority of our friends and family have taken the news with love and respect. I am so glad to see that. Not that I was worried about losing friends, I will let you in on a little secret, if you disrespect my child you're not someone I want in my life anyway. Oh, wait, I guess that probably didn't come as much of a surprise did it?

But anyway, most everyone in our lives has been wonderful. Which is why they are in our lives.

The rest of the world has not been as great. Trans folx, especially trans women have become the great lighting rod of discontent for the Right. It's been incredibly disheartening to see them use the same attacks and rhetoric they did on the homosexual population in the 80s. I'm hopeful that it will pass, but I'm also terrified that she's going to get hurt because of it. So yeah, big change in our lives that we knew was coming during #53. And it will continue through #54FucksSake just mind your own business and let people live their own lives. 

I also mentioned that we had started the house search again. And that ended up taking up a LOT of our time and energy during #53. Looking, bidding, losing, looking again, then finally buying a new build and waiting. Then crossing our fingers that we didn't miss our window to sell. It was a lot of stress. Incredibly grateful for our real estate agent extraordinaire, Patty Vice (if you are in the Portland Metro area I cannot recommend using her any more strongly). Patty has stuck with us for years as we've looked and stopped looking over and over again. Then during the worst market for buyers she stuck by our sides and kept us centered through this crazy process. So grateful for her.

But it did take up a large amount of our time, and we are still going. We are about 80% settled and now we need to wrap up a few big things, and a lot of little things but since we are mostly comfortable it's easy to just let them slide to "next week." But #54SlackingNoMore takes over now! Or you know, #54FucksSake let's get this done. 

I was hopeful that our Disneyland trip last fall would still happen and that did and it was so fun. It was the first trip where Katie was out in public. She hadn't yet come out to the whole world, but on that trip we used her chosen name for the first time and she got a taste of freedom. The pictures are so beautiful. I love them. That was a completely #Joyfully53 moment for sure. 

But along with that hope was the one that I hoped the world would open up again, that the pandemic would end, that people would stop being so selfish and well...#54FucksSake they could still be on my list for this year. What really happened is we all got tired of the pandemic and decided to act like it was over (by all I mean a lot of people, there are those of us who still were and are cautious to varying degrees) and as far as selfish goes? Yeah, that's not better at all. We in the US have become very much the Un-United States of aMErica. It's disheartening at best. But...#54FucksSake let's just move on!

So what am I looking at for next year? 

Well it's going to be a year of... 

Um....

I want to make sure I...

And then there is...

Yeah, I still haven't really decided. I have a lot of leftover stuff from last year with the house to take care of. I'm pretty well settled in to my new weight (remember I lost a lot when I switched the way I eat, I have a 5 pound range that I swing in right now that has been steady for almost a year, part of me feels like I should take the bottom of that range and aim for it to be the top of a new 5 pound range but I also know that is the path that leads to madness in 5 pound increments) BUT...since I've settled in to that weight I'm rebuilding my wardrobe. I have a lot that just doesn't fit anymore and a lot that I bought just to have something to wear. So I'm trying to get to where I love everything in my closest again. 

I'm still adjusting to Brent being in a mixed schedule for work. Some days he's here, some days he's working in the Intel Offices, almost every day he's working way too many hours. So I'm trying to adapt to that with meal planning and errands and house stuff. And also trying to make sure I make the time to sit down and write even when he's working in the office here and when he's not here making sure I sit down and write instead of just thinking "Oh I should do all the noisy house work while he's gone!" Basically I should just make sure I sit down and write!

I think that's the 54 goals. 
Get it together: 
The house
The wardrobe
The schedule

I never really got to a consistent #Joyfully53 but #54FucksSake this year is a new start and we can all do better!

And if you hadn't noticed, that's what we went with for this year, #54FucksSake, I'm pretty sure that one won't be as hard to work into daily life. 

Stay tuned for more tweaks as the month progresses and for sure once we hit September. It's prime goal setting season, I just need to get through the next week, the hardest of the hard month, and then we are golden. 

Love you all, and I mean it. I took my birthday off my profile this year and I officially stopped pushing Birthday Month Cake and Compliments season and I still got texts and posts and wishes. I guess when you push your birthday for so long people take note. It was lovely to get them, and I appreciate you all so much. 

Now #54FucksSake let's take no prisoners this year and rock the shit out of the next twelve months because you know I'm already looking forward to 55!

Grief Comes in On Little Cat Feet...

Apologies to Carl Sandburg. 

George was a stomper. Nine pounds on a good day and STOMP STOMP STOMP he would come down the hallway. Gracie who was 15 pounds on a good day in the other direction was light on her feet. Sampson who was closer to 20 didn't make a sound. Tig, also 9 pounds, STOMP STOMP STOMP. Tux at 11 pounds can be a little of both. Not a stomper like Tig, more of a pitter patter, but can also just appear without any noise at all. The smaller the cat the louder the walk, in our experience. 

So the idea of the fog coming in on little cat feet has always made me smirk. STOMP STOMP STOMP the fog rolls in...STOMP STOMP STOMP it rolls out. I think he had Sampson and Gracie in mind, not Tig and George. 

But grief? Now grief comes in on little cat feet. 

At first it stomps in and will. not. be. ignored. It knocks all of your shit over and demands all of your attention. PAY ATTENTION TO ME.

Later it just shows up randomly. Creeps in and settles down without you noticing. Softly nudges you to get your attention, then knocks all of your shit over. 

Three years after Mom's death and I've made peace with the cat. Mostly. Sort of. I know the times it's guaranteed to show up. When I need to get all of the delicate things down from the shelves and just get ready. August. August is a careful month now. 

Eleven years after Dad's death and the cat can surprise me still, but it's less prone to knocking shit over. Now it's more of a let me settle down here next to you for awhile feeling. We are quiet together for a while then it saunters off to do its own thing.

Two years after Ann's death and sometimes I forget about the cat. I forget that she's gone. I think, oh we need to call Ann this week; it's been too long. Oh...wait. We were in that completely surreal pandemic time when she died and there is a part of my brain that still doesn't quite accept that she's gone. Which is weird, and hard. And very prone to stomping cats. 

Fifteen years after Jack's death and the cat doesn't knock things over, doesn't stomp around, doesn't demand attention. I can go find the cat if I want to, but it doesn't seek me out much. We've definitely made peace, that cat and I. 

There are others that have their own cats. People I've lost either through death or just death of the relationship. Each one having a cat to call their own. Stompers and silent movers. Ones I've made peace with and ones that can still knock all of my shit over when given the chance. I'm sure it's not what Mr. Sandburg had in mind when he wrote his poem, but my version works for me. 

Grief comes in on little cat feet. 

STOMP STOMP STOMP

Just Ask...

"Who are you?" She was surprisingly calm considering there was a stranger sitting on her couch. Feet propped on her end table. Shoes on.

"Well the Greeks called me Oizys and the Romans called me Miseria, lately I've been using Hillary, just because it amuses me."

"Okay...and why are you here?" She didn't ask her to take her feet off the table. She didn't want to seem bossy. To the woman who broke into her house and was sitting there like she owned it. 

"You tell me. You're the one who called."

"I called you?" She hadn't. She didn't call anyone anymore let alone strangers. 

"Yep. Loud and clear this morning. Not a lot of people call on me anymore, well, not a lot called on me before. I think people just didn't realize they could. Or by the time you think to do it you don't. Or you just talk yourself out of it, who wants to admit defeat right? Which is probably the truth. Okay, it is the truth. I know why people don't tend to call on me. I mean. I'm me."

"Well I can assure you, I did not call you. I don't even know you."

"Oizys, Miseria, Hillary, the goddess of lost causes? Did you not, just this morning, put yourself in a position of supplication and say, and I'm quoting here, 'Oh for fuck's sake, I can't catch a fucking break!' Pretty sure that was you. And you followed it up with, 'Just a little fucking help, that's all I'm asking for here.' And so here I am. A little fucking help for a lost cause."

It was her turn to sit down. How the fuck did this woman know that? It had happened right after hanging up the phone with her father. He had called to let her know that he and her step mother would not be sending her the money she was counting on to buy the food truck she had found, the one she had already signed a contract for. The money he had said was always waiting for her, whenever she needed it. The money that was supposed to compensate for the fact that she paid her own way through college while they paid for her step-brother's tuition. All of them were treated equally after all. That was always the theory. It was not her experience that it was the practice though. 

"Look, I get it, my parents are the literal embodiment of darkness and shadows. One of my brothers is the God of Stupidity. I feel you. I really do. Family can just suck."

She laughed at that. Hillary's brother should totally hang around with her step-brother. 

"Oh he knows him for sure. Sorry, I can tell what you are thinking. Kind of goes with the omnipotent gig."

"Okay, so let's say I believe you."

"You do."

"Let's say that I do. If I'm a lost cause what can you do to help me? I mean, lost cause seems kind of final right?"

"Well sure, it would be, if you didn't have a deity on your side, which you now do. I am the goddess of lost causes, which means if you are a lost cause I can help you out, right up until you stop being a lost cause. Basically think about me like a genie where you get one wish to make things better. So make it a good one because as soon as it's better, I'm not able to do anything else."

She tried to think about one thing that she could get help with that would make a difference. Just one. Not everything. One thing. But her whole life had been a life of "almost" she was almost promoted, she almost got the dream job, she almost married the man of her dreams, she almost married the woman of her dreams. Almost got the great apartment. Almost missed being in the 20 car pileup on the highway that wrecked her brand new car that was almost insured for enough to replace it. Almost had the money to buy the food truck to start her business

If there was one thing she could count on it was that she couldn't count on anything. Nothing ever came through or worked out. It was always tantalizingly close and then would slip away. Which seemed so much worse than if she had never even gotten close to success. It was the almost part that made it worse. False hope. There were times she wished she was just a complete failure instead of an almost success. It would be so much easier to never think she was going to succeed. 

"Oh wow, I wish you hadn't thought it quite like that."

"What? Wait, are you kidding me? I didn't ask anything! I was just thinking!"

"I warned you I could tell what you were thinking. I mean, I was pretty clear so I guess total failure it is....Nah, I'm just fucking with you. But do be more careful. I mean if I really thought you wanted that I would be compelled to give it to you. And sometimes people want really stupid things. Keeps my brother in business, but I'd really rather not make you a hopeless case instead of just a lost cause, you know?"

 She took a deep breath and tried to calm her heart down. "Thank you."

"Look, it's a big decision. How about I leave you alone for a few days so you can think about it and then let me know?"

"If I answer that will it count as my decision?"

"Always good to check. No, it won't. There's actually a fairly formal process I will tell you about. Some of the family are a little more capricious but I am always dealing with people who are at their literal wit's end so I want to be clear on what is asked and what it means. You just think about it and let me know when I come back, okay? But again, be careful because once you ask for something that I can feel you really think you want I'm going to be compelled to walk you through all the steps to make it official. Even if I KNOW it's a bad idea."

"Okay. Thank you."

And with that she was alone in her house. Hillary was just gone. Like she had never been there. Which face it, she probably hadn't been. She was probably dreaming right this moment and would wake up thinking about how she almost got help from an ancient Greek goddess that would have completely turned her world around. 

Almost. 

I Am...

I am doing a combination thing with the Picture of the Day prompts this month. One feed that will be just using the cats in the photos, one not using the cats, and sometimes if the mood strikes me using the photo prompt as a blog prompt. 

That's today!

I am. 

That's the prompt. 

Now, I just did a whole theme week around the core of me which is basically I am. And I write all the time about what I think and feel and that's basically I am. So you wouldn't think I would have anything to add today on this. But if there's one thing I am, I am chatty. So here you are. 

Another thing I am? I am extremely self conscious about my legs. I mean, I grew up in New Mexico and school started when it was still hot and went through the first few months where it was getting hot and most of the people, like, 90% of the people I knew had never seen my legs unless they were wrapped in panty hose. Or at least above the knee. Sometimes I'd find a nice long skirt that I would wear, but for the most part, nope. Unless I was Daisy Duking it (with more modest shorts because I was also really self conscious about the size of my butt) I did not wear shorts in public.

I have spent more time and money on creams and pills and brushes and research on the efficacy and side effects of surgery to "fix" my legs than I would care to admit. And a large amount of that time was AFTER I found out in school that there was nothing I could have ever done about the cellulite. It's genetic. Has everything to do with your fascia and very little to do with your weight. So all of the years I spent starving myself thinking if I just got thin enough I would have smooth legs and a smooth butt were for nothing. 

But hope springs eternal and all that...

I mean, it's really dumb actually. But it is just that, hope. I want to have smooth legs. I've always wanted to have smooth legs. I have strong legs. If you ever think you are going to need a door kicked down I'm your girl. I have great endurance in my legs. I can walk all over Disneyland TWICE. I have soft legs. The skin is lovely to touch. But I don't have smooth legs and that always felt like some sort of embarrassing failure. 

Because I'm obsessive about my legs and I look at every one else's legs when I'm in public thinking how much better than mine they look I assume every one in public is looking at mine and thinking, wow, that's a lot of cellulite. She must be really out of shape and not take care of herself. How ugly and embarrassing for her.

Over the past few years I've been trying to get over it. Or if not over it at least stop letting it hold me back from wearing what I want to wear. Hawaii helped a lot with that. Seeing the variety of body types and shapes on display at the beaches and pools and out in town and never once thinking to myself, oh yuck! I realized that most people don't give a fuck about your body. The only people that really care are the companies that make all of the products that don't work on cellulite but sell you on the dream that they will. Right after they sell you on the nightmare that it's a problem anyway.

Beauty companies are often the ugliest of companies. First they make up what is wrong with you then they sell you a product that doesn't fix it so you go on a perpetual search for a miracle product for a made up problem.

I will never have smooth legs or a smooth butt. My fascia is loosely woven. That's just the way it goes. I will also probably always be self conscious about it because that was laid in when I was 9 or 10 and the first person told me I had cottage cheese thighs and should go on a diet. (Ironically dieting in the late 70s consisted mainly in eating cottage cheese). I will also keep trying to overcome that self conscious streak and wear things that look cute in my head before I put them on my body and I will hold that image tightly so I project the confidence needed to make it look cute to everyone else. Because that's always the secret to good fashion, wearing it well.  

So, for all of you wondering what my legs actually do look like...here you go. 

Had to hold the phone high to get the legs in the mirror

And (deep breath) the closer shot:

Feeling brave, might delete later.

I am:

Very self conscious about my legs (and butt)

I am:

Working on it.

I am:

Still trying to improve at 53 11/12.