On a Phuket beach over the Songkran weekend, I had some time to ponder about people’s bodies. We were staying at a hotel that’s popular with the Scandavians (never seen so many natural blondes in one place before!) and the Russians. The English-speaking guests were definitely in the minority there. And so, with that many Europeans, the beach attire was a far cry from what we are accustomed to seeing in North America. We certainly got an eyeful: overly tanned wrinkly old ladies in triangle bikinis, hairy pot-bellied men in banana hammocks, pasty white folks flipping themselves over like steaks on a barbecue… Am sure if you listened closely, you could probably hear them sizzle.

One overcast afternoon, while my peeps played in the water, I people-watched. People-watching is now one of my favourite things to do in Thailand. Never a dull view! Unfortunately I couldn’t memorialize the sights, as we had drained the camera’s battery that morning, and left it charging in the hotel room. With the anonymity provided by a red wide-brimmed hat and red-rimmed sunglasses (har har), I objectively observed (another har har) the wrinkles, cellulite, hairy backs, and the outlines of male genitalia so kindly afforded by brightly coloured bits of Spandex. There was a middle-aged fella nearby; dark tan, comfortable beer belly, hair everywhere except on his head, and a leopard print Speedo. He laid on a towel on the sand, on his side, one hand propping up his head, the opposite arm resting along his upper side. It was like he was posing for a swimsuit issue photo shoot. My favourite watched person of the weekend!

This fleshy feast for the eyes brought the realization of how lucky we Bayne-Stevenson women are. We are genetically blessed with minimal cellulite, firm, shapely legs, and derrières that kick gravity in the, well, derrière. Most of the women on the beach had jiggly hammies and droopy batties, even the twenty-somethings. I didn’t even know hamstrings could jiggle. I figured, engaging the quads and hams to hover over public toilets would have done the trick. Our males relatives have good strong legs too – albeit a little bowed in some, but nevertheless endearing. However, the women take the cake: my mother, daughter, sisters, aunts, cousins, grandmother, all of them!

That said, we do have imperfections: inherited physical banes, if you will. Bosoms and bellies get in the way for some Baynes. Bad skin and frizzy hair bother some Stevensons. We are not perfect specimens, far from it. But I must say, the legs and ass are pretty close to perfect!

This is not a bid for compliments (I do that for myself, thank you), or an attempt to show off (my shoes already do the honours), but an attempt to pay homage. It’s an expression of pride in my family genes, and I’m eternally grateful for them. The gams and badonkadonk make up for all the other features and flaws we fret about.

The legs have it, baby!