Nov. 28, 2010
You are not beautiful. In all of our 20 years together, I’ve never thought so. You are awkward looking and represent a weird dichotomy. You are the reason I stand 5 foot 8, but your shape is far from desired. While you have the height of my father, you possess the shapeless look of my mother’s Asian side. In Japanese, your ugly appearance is called "Daikon Ashi," a term that means you look like white radishes. You are not beautiful. I’ve never thought so. But, my dear legs, you have served me well over the years. You’ve allowed me to play soccer for three-fourths of my life. You can keep me from falling off a horse during a hunter-jumper course. You can do sprints, lunges, and squats. You can pretend you know the steps to salsa when I’m intoxicated. You can be thrown above my head during fabulous sex. You can still propel me to the highest heights on a swing. You can flutter kick me away from the ocean’s icky seaweed. You can walk me through the world’s greatest cities. But you are not beautiful legs. I’ve never thought so. Your knees are scarred and discolored. Your calves form fat cankles. Your thighs wiggle-jiggle and make me cry in dressing rooms. And you always need to be shaved! All 43 inches of you! Times two! So much work, you legs! You will never be the long, elegant dancer legs all girls desire. You will never be able to pull off short-shorts. You will never look perfect in a miniskirt. You are not beautiful. I’ve never thought so. But here you are, still standing. So thank you for that.
Angelica Krouwer is currently a junior at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She is double majoring in International Relations and Political Science but keeps her interest in literature and creative writing very much alive.