I’ve been kicking around the idea of sharing this photo and opening up this conversation for over a week, and then my boyfriend “shared” a Facebook memory from a year ago, a beautiful picture of us in which I had “smoothed” over my cellulite with an app before I even let him post it, and I realized how far I’ve come on my body confidence journey, so now I’m going to share my story of thigh-jiggle-freedom.

I have been SO AMPED in the last few weeks reading about how excited people are that they saw Wonder Woman’s legs jiggle on “the big screen.” Sure, she’s a fit, goddess, powerhouse with perfectly toned quads, but the choice to empower little girls, women and even men to watch how a women’s body naturally moves when jumping around is raising the bar for acceptance of ALL jiggly bodies.

Then, last week, I wore the shortest romper I’ve ever worn in public, after a lifetime of swearing off shorts for my cellulite covered “thunder thighs” (as the boys in 8th grade called them.) We were on a road trip through Rhode Island, eventually heading towards the beach and I decided it was finally the day to REALLY let my thighs breath. We stopped first in Providence, RI so I could get a tattoo to memorialize my father, but had arrived a bit early to my appointment, so we jumped out of the car to walk around Federal Hill with Rebel & check out the cool street art.

I was so self conscious the first twenty steps of our walk, noticing immediately how much natural air I could feel on the thighs I had hid from the world for so long, trying to catch a glimpse of my reflection in every storefront to see what my legs looked like in motion.

All of a sudden I remembered Superwoman and her infamous thigh jiggle and I thought to myself “I am fucking Wonder Woman!” Just like that, I carried on through a beautiful sunny walk, one hand in my boyfriends, the other holding Rebels leash and the thoughts of my thighs melted away. True progress.

Later that day I saw that Dan had posted this picture of me on his Insta story. For the briefest second I considered being mortified that he’d share this angle of me to the world, but very quickly my mind course-corrected to say “DAYUMMM GIRL, YOU GOT IT GOING ON!”
The next thing I realized about this picture is how I’m smiling as I’m talking to the tattoo artist– and that’s because I was telling him the story of my dads only tattoo, a Packer G on his left deltoid that he claimed to have had the tattoo artist “use an extra long needle so it would go to the bone.” I got to remember my favorite parts of my dad, a goofy Packer fan, in a typically uncomfortable position where I was getting his words immortalized on my wrist, and for that I am so glad this photo exists.

Today, let your thighs breath, and if you’re scared, remember that you’re Wonder Woman too!

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