December 99 December 98 December 97 _________________ Friday 10 December 99 2 57 am pst   Matthew came down with a kitchen with a glass of red for him and a glass of white for me, but before we even had a sip I insisted he take photos of my legs.   He decided to also take one of the wine. M is wonderful, for while he finds many of my undertakings to be absurd, he always indulges my fancies.   This is wise of him because when I get it in my head to do something, I do it.   He is critical of my creative efforts, but always in a constructive way.   I am thankful for my two legs.   I am thankful that the function properly and that they put up with my erratic method of exercise.   I am thankful they were -- for the most part -- well behaved when I was dancing every day in college.   I am thankful that I enjoy walking. My legs are great for running, jumping, skipping, walking, strolling, pacing, kicking, pushing, spinning, swimming, horseback riding, dancing, turning, supporting, skiing, lunging, leaping, dangling, and squeezing. I hate standing.   I think standing is one of the most unnatural actuvities a human can do.   People were meant to walk, run, sit, or lay down -- but not stand.   If I have to wait in line I sit my tush on the ground.   I avoid standing at all costs. When I was in sixth grade, I broke my arm, but I have never broken anything else.   I had two noteworthy leg injuries.   My mother's house sits atop a long and slightly steep driveway.   When I was much younger I went running down the driveway (I was always running somewhere on my trusty legs) and slipped on some loose gravel.   I scraped up my entire thigh (I think it was the left one) but thankfully I have no scar from that. Years later, I went to summer camp every year for a month of intensive horseback riding.   One year I was riding bareback in shorts, and the fat pony I was on (names Easy) decided to brush me up against the wooden railing.   One of the camp supervisors drove me to the infirmary on his motoscooter.   That was delight enough for me to forget the pain for a few minutes, but it was much to loud for me too enjoy on a regular basis.   I have never been back on a motorscooter. My horseback riding scar was substantial and pronounced, and I was sure it would be with my for life.   It is on the fron shin of my left leg, but it has faded so much as to be barely visible. I'm not a big fan of sitting in chairs -- at least not the normal way.   I find it to be most unsatisfying, so I am usually sitting on my legs (a product of being very short as a child and needing to increase my height to see in movie theaters and the like).   Often, I find that rather than crossing my legs normally, I have wrapped them around each other as much as possible [see photo above].   I once had a college professor ask me if I took yoga for four hours a day to be able to get into the twisted and contorted positions I would sit in in class.   I actually have taken yoga (erratically, as with everything else) and I can sit in the lotus position, though not for very long. In the above image you can also see a small bruise on my left shin.   It was formerly a rather large bruise of unknow origin.   I am rather clumsy, but i don't tend to get bruises without noticing that I did so.   Matthew says that dancers are clumsy, and that is why I am so. Matthew is half black and half white, and as such, he is a lovely shade of skin tone at all times.   His only shades are dark and darker.   As such, I often become aware of how ridiculously pale I am.   I am rather incapable of tanning (unless great effort and care is taken), so I am always a shade that I lovingly refer to as plucked-chicken white. I have rather wimpy arms, especially when it comes to packing a bunch, but I am pleased to have powerful legs.   I began horseback riding at nine and a half, and that left me with residual muscles that I can find to this day [the last time I competed was in 1993].   I miss horseback riding very much.   I had an incredible capability to stick to a horse (done by wrapping your legs around it and holding that position tightly).   I would jump bareback (up to three feet!) and often ride without the use of the stirrups (that method is a real thigh burner). I miss riding very much... The first time I shaved my legs I was 16 (the summer before twelfth grade).   I just grabbed a razor and sat in my room and remove all the hair (we were having a heat wave and I though it might make me cooler).   This is what is known as dry shaving, and it irritates the skin like you wouldn't belive!   I resisted shaving for so long out of inertia, and my deep pleasure in being different.   When boys at summer camp told me I needed to shave, I always responded So do you!   Shaving has always been a periodic activity for me (but then again, what isn't [besides this]?).   I have tried waxing on occasion, and I even tried hair removal cream once, because one of my friends recommended it, but it didn't do a thing for me.   I have been know (in the winter, when I wear lots of pants, and when I am not dating anyone) to go without shaving for many months.   I am a lazy chiquita banana.