I was ready in 2008 for the Olympic Games but unfortunately I missed the Kenyan trials with a thigh injury. I watched those Olympics but it was tough to watch. But it was good in the end because a Kenyan, Wilfred Bungei, was the champion.
It's hard to find peace with your thighs, but when they chafe, try to be grateful for them. Your thighs let you run and get you where you want to go. I have not just thigh peace but thigh happiness, and it begins with thigh gratitude.
A wing or a thigh? Ah, I'm afraid we don't have any thighs left.
The last thing I would want for my future daughter would be to starve herself because she thought a thigh gap was necessary to be deemed attractive.
You try to leave and I will hunt you down. " Relief poured through her, but she smacked at his thigh with the back of her brush. "Like a rabid dog? Very romantic.
I wish I could swap closets with Diana Vreeland, but I think only my left thigh would fit into her clothing.
I don't intend to stop showing a little cleavage. Nor do I intend to stop flashing a little thigh.
As I was smoothing on the last handful across the top of my thigh, I noticed I had company. Lewus was standing there watching me, eyes half-closed but not in the least sleepy. He'd put on his blue jeans, but nothing else. . . very sexy. I couldn't help but take in the view.
You don't have to have a thigh gap to be beautiful
I hit your thigh!” “Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh.
I want a big man physically as well as intellectually. l want a man with the thigh muscles to give me a good frolic in the sack, the kind who'll tear hell out of a thick steak, and yet who can go to the ballet with me and discuss Hegelian dialectic and know what the hell he's talking about.
He gave a dark chuckle. “But you’re not, so you had absolutely no qualms about kneeing me in the groin, right?” “I hit your thigh!” “Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh,” he replied, his voice full of skepticism.
I pressed her thigh and death smiled
Relish the fresh landscape of my wound, break rushes and delicate rivulets, drink blood poured on honeyed thigh.
