Honesty

The other day, Nate and I decided to wash the car while Scarlett took her nap. It was a perfect day and we had tons of fun. Well, actually, I don't know how much fun Nate had after we finished and I took to spraying him relentlessly with the hose, but it was good time spent together. When I tired of soaking him, Nate and I got out the sidewalk chalk and played outside a little longer. The weather was perfect. It was getting close to Scarlett's wake up time and I needed to shower so I asked Nate if he'd like to watch a movie while I got cleaned up. He'd had a bath and snuggled into the couch as I sat next to him and snuggled into him while still in my swimsuit. As I got the movie going he looked up at me and said sweetly, "Mommy, your legs are fat."

Now, I've always had big legs. My sisters would call me thunder thighs. When I was playing tennis or volleyball or running when I was younger they were pretty tone even though they were no where near chicken-y. I've always wanted those beautiful, long, slender legs, but I know I'll never have them. I've accepted my muscular, short legs. They get me where I need to go. Regardless of the peace I've made with my lower extremities, this comment hit me pretty hard because it's kinda true. My legs aren't nearly as pretty as they used it be, if they ever where.

I said, "What did you say, Nate?"

"Mommy, your legs are fat."

"Nate, you shouldn't tell anyone that anything on them is fat."

"I didn't mean everything, Mom. Just your legs."

This left me flabbergasted. I feel like maybe there's genetic coding in males that they instantly try to backpedal when they say anything about a woman's appearance. At least not everything on me is fat! Anyway, he's only six, he's being honest, and he didn't mean it in a mean way. At what age do guys lose those excuses? I can tell you now, if Robert had said the same thing to me in the same way he'd be in the dog house!