A Thigh Gap Sigh


I read a comment on a social media picture the other day complimenting a woman upon her thigh gap. The thigh gap, if you don’t know, is the area of space between your thighs. Yes, that area of completely empty space about your person is something that other people (women) covet. Apparently.

Wikipedia cite it as “A thigh gap is a space between the inner thighs of some women when standing upright with knees touching. A thigh gap has become an aspect of physical attractiveness that has been associated with fragility and femininity”

I’d give a more reputable definition except, of course, for most people – this really isn’t ‘a thing’ but for some people it is ‘the thing’ But here’s ‘my thing’… I’ve always had a ‘thigh gap’ here it is…

How entirely unremarkable I hear you say. I agree. Thing is, I’m really squeezing here to get my knees together because, for most of my life this ‘thigh gap’ which is recently desirable has always been known as rather ‘bandy legs’ et voila…

The fresh air between my legs through which daylight can shine has been an object of both derision and admiration. Let me say that again – the FRESH AIR BETWEEN MY LEGS…

When we start celebrating gaps in our being, our reduced size, our lack of physical presence aren’t we effectively rubbing ourselves out? Diminishing our very beings and desiring to appear less and less substantial? And isn’t that jolly damaging? I’d say it is most entirely damaging. Thinspo (thin inspiration) posts abound about how to get said thigh gap (and mine does go all the way up but I was wearing a dress and decorum dictates that I don’t reveal my gusset to the World). The stark fact is that most women will never have one – they’re not made that way. Back in the day – they’d have probably been glad about it ‘cos being bandy-legged wasn’t at all desirable.  Being healthy and fit and strong should surely be a goal but aiming for a thigh gap or congratulating a woman for having one is nonsensical.

And finally, I take issue with being seen as fragile because of my thigh gap. Those legs are damn strong and muscular. There’s precious little fragility about them. They’ve carried me through marathon walks, up mountains, trotted through many a bog and squatted to within an inch of their life. They’ve been ripped, torn, scratched, bruised, cut and often ache with fatigue at the end of a long day. There’s nothing fragile about them – or me. I just happen to have rather bandy legs and I like them that way. And if yours carry you through life – you should like yours too – because that is exactly what they are for, not for others to judge.


Be More – Never Less.




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