Chirky

While in Boston a few weeks ago, I developed and documented a new theory of mine: WOMEN IN BOSTON HAVE THIN LEGS. All of them. It's true!

Hypothesis: they walk everywhere they go. I am obsessed with this theory, because I have somewhat-muscular, stocky legs. I inherited them from my dad.

On Mother's Day this year, I took one look at my mom and announced that she, too, had Boston legs. Then, I called her "Bird Legs," her nickname in high school, just for old times sake. And because I was jealous.

My freshman year of college, the year that I flunked out of school because all I did was party and exercise, I was unhealthily healthy. I dated a body builder, which meant that I, too, worked out in the gym for three hours a day, each day. My body fat fluctuated between 10-15%, which is way lower than any woman should be.

I prided myself on my ability to do 150-pound leg curls, and I could press more than 700 pounds with my legs, too. It has been TOO LONG (read = eight years) since I have continuously and seriously exercised with weights, and now I am doing well if I curl 40-pounds and press 150.

I can't believe I just admitted that to the Internet. Next, I'll be telling you how much I weigh.

Don't hold your breath.

Back to my theory: my subjects did not know that I was snapping pictures of their legs - I went into deep cover for the mission. End result? An abnormal amount of women's legs taking up space on my flash card. Check it out for yourself:

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This was my first subject. I saw her from afar, and began urgently whispering to Roger, "Skinny legs. Skinny legs. Skinny legs." I ran down the street after her, and caught up just in time for her to duck into a pastry shop. A pastry shop? With those legs? She MUST walk everywhere she goes. Roger was using the camera to take a picture when she came back out, and I grabbed the camera, waited til she passed me, and started running after her. Then I squatted, zoomed in, and snapped away. AND SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT!!! BWAAHHHAHAHAHAA!!!

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This woman was entering a restaurant where Roger and I ate. Roger and I took turns running around in front of the restaurant taking pictures of thin-legged women while we were waiting for our food.

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Roger took this picture. I think it was because of her pink pants. Notice that she's striking a pose for our camera. Of course, she didn't know she was striking a pose, but I knew it all along.

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These girls walked by, holding a pint of strawberries and eating them straight from the plastic container. I thought to myself: "Whoa! Eating healthy AND walking. That's such a GREAT combination. I should, like, try it sometime."

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I took this picture while standing in the middle of the street. This girl was with her brother and father, and she was watching while her brother put coins in the meter. Her father, however, was watching me. He gave me a strange look when he saw me standing in the middle of the street, zoomed in on his daughter, taking a picture. It just wasn't possible to hide what I was doing, because there was nothing behind her to take a picture of. Afterward, I just smiled and walked away.

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Thin legs AND she has a baby? Must be from pushing that stroller around all day.

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I cropper her out of the picture, but in the original you can see this girl's mom giving me "the look." I think that the baggy pants just accentuate the thin legs.

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This was the hostess of the restaurant where we ate. When I saw her, I knew I had a winner.

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These girls were sitting at a table across from Roger and me. When I saw them get up, I gave Roger an excited look that said, "Thin legs. Give me the camera." He did, and I ran outside after them to take their picture.

I even interviewed one Bostonian once I returned to Dallas. She confirmed my suspicious and gave me a statement regarding the sheer strength of her legs: "I've been told I could kill a man with my bare legs."

Of course, I don't know why her legs would have to be bare. Maybe she meant that she could kill a man just using her legs. That said, I think it's safe to say that I should move to Boston or San Francisco or somewhere that forced me to walk more often. That, or start exercising again.