I love my legs. I really do. My thighs, not so much. But my legs. Oh, honey! Who would have thought that a woman who is only 5’1 without heels on could have such long legs? I distinctly remember the first time I ever wore a knee-length skirt. I just sort of marveled at the way my own legs looked stretching beneath the skirt to my high-heeled sandals. I said, surprised, “I have nice legs.”

To which, my mother replied, “Of course you do. Just no one ever sees them.”

Well, I’ve changed that trend over the past 14 years. I’ve learned the value of a shorter skirt, the freedom of shorts, and the seduction of a knee-length pencil skirt. I have come to love my legs, to know the power of a well-shod foot and, as they would say, well-turned calf. I’ve learned just the right shoes to give even more length and shape to my legs. I will forever have the thighs of Ebanks women but a long enough skirt or dress can hide that and still show off a great pair of gams.

When I was lying down on the floor on my side once, a friend pointed to me, running their finger through the air over the line of my legs and just sort of sighed, “Look at that.” I think I blushed at that moment but it felt good. Just like it does when Ben runs his hands over my legs, or scratches gently at my thigh, or kisses my ankle.

Yeah. I think I love my legs.