The Leg Monster is Born

If y'all will allow me a bit of self promotion time. As if writing a personal blog isn't already a little self-promoting, but anyway...

Yesterday at the gym I was feeling self conscious because I woke up and realized that if I didn't get myself to the salon and have my eyebrows waxed I was going to have to go get some barrettes to hold them back. I have an appointment for the salon scheduled for next week but I am uncertain about whether or not I should wait...of course there was this fiasco a couple of years ago. Which always looms in my mind...but I may give it another try. It's at that serious level of growthage. (yes, I just made that word up). But anyway, I didn't have time to pluck before the gym. I could have made it better by using a bit of makeup but I never wear make-up to the gym. I am not there to impress anyone.

I get to the gym to attend this weight lifting class that is a serious workout. It's sweaty and ugly 'cause, you know, I'm wielding a 25 pound dumbbell over my head for fun. The Friday class is pretty tough. Taught by the tiniest women known to man. She's 5'2 if she's and inch, and she weighs all of 100 pounds of pure, unadulterated muscle. Oh! and she ALWAYS has her make-up and hair done. Always.

This tiny dynamo makes me feel like a giant, but the worst part is that she scares me to death. When I walked in and realized that she was teaching I considered walking out. She's a great instructor, but she's gonna make you hurt. Of course, when I walked into the full class, the only space left to set up was front and center. Oh no! I am going to be so close to her that she's gonna see the eyebrows.

I manage to get through class, and I am t-i-r-e-d, I start to put away my gear. I am hoping that nobody can see that I can barely move my arms. Perhaps if they are looking at my shaking tired muscles they won't be looking at my face. This is when a gal, a regular at the gym, approaches me and says, "I just have to tell you that you inspire me."

Of course, I look at her eyebrows. They are nicely trimmed and manicured and I am thinking, Yeah I am inspiring you to keep those tweezers busy. But she says, "you've got beautiful legs. I always contemplate leaving during the lunges, but then I look at your legs and I decide to stay."

And I got all sorts of flustered.

My thoughts facilitate between flattery and fear. At the exact same time I want to be delighted and I want to be afraid.

OK now. I have been told that I have nice legs in the past, (interestingly, always by women with the exception of The Mister, who has to think so) but I have to say, I don't really notice them very much. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like having legs. They are invaluable, but their just, well...legs. I obsess over other things, but never, ever, my legs.

BUT THEN! I found myself looking at my legs all. day. long. I even considered wearing shorts to my sister-in-laws house in the afternoon (you know, in case she wanted to look at them???)...but settled on capri's to tame the Leg Monster, who was growing exponentially as the day wore on...

A lot like my eyebrows.

I think I have gotten over myself now. I am truly thankful that I am healthy and active, and have a body (with legs and 20 pounds of eyebrow) that is strong and able.

I was also reminded that I am being watched. No matter where I am, I should be prepared "in season, and out" (2 Tim. 4:2) to defer to the Reason I am who I am.

Legs, brows and all.

La Vida Dulce!