BETWEEN THE KNEES AND TOES

My body image recently underwent a change of attitude.  I came home from a trip to my apartment which had undergone some remodeling while I was away.  In addition to getting a new and improved bathroom (which is...awesome) I asked for a mirror I had recently bought to be hung.  This mirror is not the thing, it's the mirror that it replaced that has rocked my world.  That mirror is sitting on the floor of my bedroom propped against my spinner.  For the past few days, the first thing I see when I get out of bed are my calves, warmly referred to by me as my cankles.  I am very happy to have legs that work, but acknowledge that I have no ankles, just calves that connect to feet.  This body part on me is where "sturdy lass" comes from.  One might think I am just exaggerating so I will recite the following true story:

I worked on a TV show called "Jake in Progress."  During season one a character (Wendy Malick) is pregnant, and complains of swollen ankles.  We were discussing that we were going to need a swollen ankle double for a close up (Wendy has incredibly fantastic model legs) when the AD reached down and pulled up my pant leg.

She said, "Eve, you're doing it."
I said, "B**ch."

Ultimately we found a suitable photo double and I eventually learned to like the AD again. 

I am currently on the pudgy end of my personal weight fluctuation continuum, and my new familiarity with my calves is changing my whole approach to diet and exercise.  I now see my cankles as the Susan Boyle of my body.  They are talented and hidden away and just need a haircut, a little time in the sun (or the fake equivalent of such) and a few less biscuits.  They crack me up and carry me around, they deserve a make-over and I am happy to oblige.