Images are from a 2005 Nike ad campaign. An old one, but the message is as relevant as ever: Love your body. Own it.
MY BUTT IS BIG. And round like the letter C. And ten thousand lunges have made it rounder, but not smaller. And that’s just fine. It’s a space heater for my side of the bed. It’s my ambassador to those who walk behind me. It’s a border collie that herds skinny women away from the best deals at clothing sales. My butt is big. And that’s just fine. And those who might scorn it, are invited to kiss it. JUST DO IT
MY HIPS Return to puberty when I’m in dance class. Music affects them like hormones, making them crazy. And spontaneous. And optimistic. And prone to drama. And I don’t understand them. And sometimes they don’t understand themselves. When the music stops, they’re still charged. Don’t touch me. Sparks will fly. JUST DO IT
I HAVE THUNDER THIGHS And that’s a compliment. Because they are strong. And toned. And muscular. And though they are unwelcome in the petite section, they are cheered on in a marathon. Fifty years from now, I’ll bounce a grandchild on my thunder thighs. And then I’ll go out for a run. JUST DO IT
MY KNEES Are tomboys. They get bruised and cut every time I play soccer. I’m proud of them. And wear my dresses short. My mother worries I will never marry with knees like that. But I know there’s someone out there who will say to me I love you. And I love your knees. And I want the four of us to grow old together. JUST DO IT
MY SHOULDERS Aren’t Dainty. Or proportional to my hips. Some say they are like a man’s. I say leave mean out of it. They are mine. I made them. In a swimming pool. Then I went to Yoga. And made my arms. JUST DO IT
MY BUTT IS BIG. And round like the letter C. And ten thousand lunges have made it rounder, but not smaller. And that’s just fine. It’s a space heater for my side of the bed. It’s my ambassador to those who walk behind me. It’s a border collie that herds skinny women away from the best deals at clothing sales. My butt is big. And that’s just fine. And those who might scorn it, are invited to kiss it. JUST DO ITMY HIPS Return to puberty when I’m in dance class. Music affects them like hormones, making them crazy. And spontaneous. And optimistic. And prone to drama. And I don’t understand them. And sometimes they don’t understand themselves. When the music stops, they’re still charged. Don’t touch me. Sparks will fly. JUST DO ITI HAVE THUNDER THIGHS And that’s a compliment. Because they are strong. And toned. And muscular. And though they are unwelcome in the petite section, they are cheered on in a marathon. Fifty years from now, I’ll bounce a grandchild on my thunder thighs. And then I’ll go out for a run. JUST DO ITMY KNEES Are tomboys. They get bruised and cut every time I play soccer. I’m proud of them. And wear my dresses short. My mother worries I will never marry with knees like that. But I know there’s someone out there who will say to me I love you. And I love your knees. And I want the four of us to grow old together. JUST DO ITMY SHOULDERS Aren’t Dainty. Or proportional to my hips. Some say they are like a man’s. I say leave mean out of it. They are mine. I made them. In a swimming pool. Then I went to Yoga. And made my arms. JUST DO IT
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