I was a Kimya fan for a long time, a Moldy Peaches fan, so I got to work on her 'Thunder Thighs' record a little bit and we became friends and just started writing songs.
I'm proud of my thighs because they've gotten me to where I am today and give me the power that I have to play my best.
I feel like I have big thighs. My brother was always like, 'Yeah, I want big thighs! Big thighs are awesome!' And I'm like, 'Yeah, for a man!' But I've trained since I was 6 years old to play soccer, and this is just the type of body I have.
I definitely am very secure with my body and my likes and dislikes and the imperfections that some might call flaws. I'm like, 'Those are my thighs; it's just what it is.' I think a lot of that has to do also with... women being a lot more vocal about the fact that, you know, being flawless is false.
The pedicure is beside the point - the rub is all I care about. And not just my feet, my calves and thighs. There is nothing better, except maybe a scalp massage.
I had to relearn how to ride a horse like an ape. I had to change how I jumped off and how I gripped them with my thighs and distribute my weight differently.
People called me 'cottage cheese thighs' all through school.
If you are ever wondering, 'If I have thinner thighs and shinier hair will I be happier?' you just need to meet a group of models because they have the thinnest thighs and the shiniest hair and the coolest clothes and they're the most physically insecure women on the planet.
I was a girl with freckles and grew into a young woman a little bit more quickly, with hips and thighs.
I walk into a health club locker room and feel an immediate impulse toward scrutiny, the kneejerk measuring of self against other: 'That one has great thighs, this one's gained weight, who's thin, who's fat, how do I compare?'
