Mommy Long Legs

It's a curse, I tell you- these legs of mine.

They're very long, especially from my hip to my knees. In fact, I have a good two or three inches over Hubby in the femurs, even though he's about an inch taller than me. It makes wearing skirts impossible, unless they are supposed to hit at the knee, then they'd be acceptable. I remember wearing a skirt in church and getting reprimanded by one of the "church ladies" because it was short. It was actually a normal skirt- it just appeared to be a mini on my freakishly long thighs.

Now, sometimes this does work to my advantage. I can get away with certain fashions that typically make people look a little squatty. I'm sure if I put my mind to it, I could probably leap over the Merrimack River in a single bound. But it's the times that they work against me that I hate.

At the commissary (aka, grocery store), I usually like to get in and out. Real quick. Just get what I need and checkout. But sometimes most of the time, everyone in there is sauntering around, looking all about, everywhere except straight ahead. And, a lot of them will just leave their cart in the middle of the aisle, so no one could get through.

Since I have mile long gams, I like to take big strides. And, since I'm from the north, I like to get things done quick. I hardly ever go without a list, and I hardly ever stray from that list (unless I see something like chocolate at 99% off).

So this is when my legs work against me. If I had shorter legs (or maybe a frontal lobotomy), I'd be happier walking a little slower, but it's just not for me.

My legs hate the commissary.