I passed a billboard with Jennifer Aniston, her long, tan legs stretch across the board. Next to that cottage-chesseless, tan, sculptued thigh, is a bottle of Smart Water. I wanted that water. No, I wanted that thigh. But it was probably photo shopped and air-brushed, right? Right?
And then I got to thinking, how can water be smart? And if there is smart water, I've probably been drinking dumb water.
And then I had an epiphany: Nobody cares about my legs. You never think about my legs, do you? And if you saw me in a swimsuit you wouldn't lay awake at night thinking about it. Would you?
Why do I obsess about these things? Stretch marks on thighs, which I started getting during my third pregnancy, are like those mother pins my son fastens to my shirt at pack meeting only they are permanent and don't get lost in the washing machine. The scar where the neighbor's horse kicked me and my knees that show the signs of being skinned too many times, and even the cottage cheese, all say that I used these bad-boys for more than propping up a bottle of Smart Water.
Here's another quote I love. Some have attributed it to Marjorie Paye Hinckley but I can't verify it. But, if she didn't say it, she thought it and lived it.
"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, "Wow, what a ride!"
