The Navatsyk Thighs

"Did you want them that big? Your thighs, I mean," a good friend asked three years ago. The Navatsyk thighs are both an ethnic blessing and curse that have followed me since sophomore year of college - incidentally, the same time I discovered the satisfaction of late night pints (both ice cream and beer). Earlier this year, when I claimed they were a hereditary trait, a guy asked if Polish people really had big thighs. I was taken aback, because I have never had to defend my thighs but rather accept them for what they are - sixteen inches of sweet, muscular girth. After this week, I am assured my thighs are not the problem, but rather the guys questioning their legitimacy.

For those of you who avidly follow my blog, anxiously awaiting each new post, you will remember that I struggle with the idea of volunteering. This sentiment is probably attributable to my capitalist mindset that requires a tangible result to imply success - namely, a pay check. In my defense, since I worked most of my life, I have never had ample time to fully commit to a certain organization, especially if I was dedicated myself to other extracurriculars, ie Thursday nights on Coventry.

Although I moved to Virginia for a job, ultimately, I know that was simply a means to bring me here. The Lord has other purposes, which I am attempting to navigate throughout my transition. One of these purposes, I believe, is volunteering. Around the turn of the new year, I applied to an organization that focuses on the underprivileged of Charlottesville. The programs reach out to inner city youth through tutoring, after school programs and small youth groups.

I am happy to say I have been an active volunteer for nearly two months. Each Thursday, three other leaders and I gather a group of 10-15 high school girls, eat dinner, share a brief message, and facilitate a craft or game. When I began, one of the leaders warned me of the degree of difficulty and commitment. Because of their background, she said, the girls do not trust easily and may take some time before they welcome you.

As it is, I sometimes wish the girls would be a bit less open with me. Perhaps it is my bubbly, somewhat flaky personality, my loud laugh, or my affinity for dancing in the car, but whatever the reason, they feel comfortable discussing serious issues with me. I believe that everyone can relate through common human experiences such as joy, insecurities, struggles, and hope. In the case of high school girls, boys consume the majority of these thoughts, although the trend does not seem to change much with age.

In my attempt to counsel the girls, I am very open about my shortcomings, with the hope that by seeing others embrace and work through imperfections, they can do the same. I exchange letters with one girl each week, and since she is currently struggling with that horribly awkward stage of transitioning into high school and dealing with boys, I commiserate.

This past Thursday, Mirakle offered me encouragement in her letter, stating that a man would one day love me for who I am because I have everything a guy could want. What qualities are those? She listed a couple generic qualities such as my humor, beauty, and character. Specifically, though, my desirable qualities are my "ghetto booty, thick thighs, and I got it all in the right places."

Needless to say, I am seriously reconsidering my strategy on pursuing guys. I may be able to name my child Maleek, after all.