Several years ago, a female acquaintance approached me to say that she thought I had gorgeous legs. Now, as a teen and on into my late 50’s (when I received the aforementioned compliment) I was accustomed to being noticed for my legs. They were long and shapely and honestly the only part of my body to ever engender even a tiny bit of vanity in me.
But as you might guess the compliments have tapered off now that I’m in my 60’s. The right knee has garnered a few scars from a much needed procedure to allow me to walk around without wincing or cursing in pain, but they are righteous scars and I’ve embraced them. My legs are just legs now. To whom should the leg torch be passed?
Last week I entered the women’s locker room at one of Tallahassee’s many fine city pools to find myself in the presence of the holy grail of legs. Honestly, I’ve never seen such perfection. The woman was taller than my 5’8”. Indeed, it appeared that her leg was my height; although, I’m sure that wasn’t the case.
Long, tan, and sculpted as beautifully as if Michelangelo himself had created it, this leg begged for a compliment. I’m not even sure she had another leg, so mesmerizing was her right one.
“Tell her what a beautiful leg she has!” the weird side of my brain urged.
Fortunately, just in time, the less weird side of my brain realized that might be a little weird in the confines of a locker room, so I just filed it away in my memory. But I must say, the torch has been passed. More than passed. Elevated to a standard no mortal could ever reach without the assistance of the gods. And I’m in awe.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 