Thick Thighs, Polka Dots, and Other Acts of Rebellion

On breaking the rules I made about my body

I’m not a small woman. I’m curvy all over, and that includes my legs. I’ve been self-conscious about my thighs for as long as I can remember — probably since middle school, when teasing first taught me they were something to hide.

Growing up in the late 90s and early 2000s, I learned the rules: hide, minimize, don’t draw attention to the wrong places. And my thighs were definitely on the list. This was before “thick thighs save lives” was a thing.

So for the next few decades, I followed the rules. Knee-length or midi skirts only. Definitely no shorts.

And for the slim amount of thigh that might be visible in winter? Solid, opaque tights only. Patterned tights were to be avoided at all costs.

And this was a rule I imposed upon myself for years. And like most rules we make about our bodies, I followed it without ever questioning who made it in the first place.

But slowly, I started to break my own rules.

First, it was the pair of fishnet stockings I bought for a costume — truly the gateway drug to patterned tights. I wore them to an ’80s tribute band concert and felt great. Not self-conscious at all. But that was a costume, not real life. I couldn’t wear tights like that in real life, could I?

Fishnets: The gateway drug to patterned tights

Then, about a year ago, I got a pair of patterned tights for free. Adorable black tights with little polka dots — a gift with purchase, and by far the lowest-risk way to dip a toe into the world of work-appropriate (or at least date-night-appropriate) patterned tights.

The first time I wore them was on a date with my husband, and I paired them with over-the-knee boots (another item I thought I couldn’t wear), and a short (for me) black dress. As I was looking at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom, my husband told me I looked great.

“Yeah? Even the tights?” I asked, scrutinizing my reflection.

“What’s up with the tights?”

In typical fashion, the thing that was keeping me up at night didn’t even register for my husband. For me, I was so worried that the little polka dots were serving as flashing lights to highlight my thick thighs. And all he saw were sexy legs.

It was my first real clue that the harshest critic in the room was me.

Fast forward to this year, and I finally found a brand of tights I love — good quality, reasonably priced, and, most importantly, they don’t squeeze in all the wrong places (Les Belles — not sponsored, I just really like them). I mostly stick to black and nude, but they also make some really cute patterned tights, and I decided to treat myself.

The other day I wore a pair to work. Black with tiny hearts, paired with ankle boots and a mid-thigh skirt.

Did they draw attention to my thighs? Maybe.

But they were cute and fun and completely appropriate for my business-casual office. I kept waiting for someone to notice — positively or negatively — but no one did. And that was okay.

I had spent years afraid that patterned tights would draw attention. In reality, they barely registered at all.

So now I’m a fan. I don’t wear them every day, but every once in a while, they’re a reminder that not every rule I made about my body deserves to stick.

I might not have size 2 gams (or size 2 any part of my body, honestly), but I’m finally done pretending that’s a problem. My thighs may be thick, but they’re strong — thanks to years of yoga, barre, and lately, cycling — and they deserve better than to be hidden under opaque tights forever.

I grew up thinking I needed to hide the parts of my body I liked least, never stopping to consider that other people — including my husband — might actually like those parts.

If you’re waiting to love your body before you let yourself have fun with it, wear the tights. Or the shorts. Or the thing you’ve been avoiding for twenty years. Life is too short to dress for rules no one else remembers making.