“Runway. That’s what he called you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well runways are flat and he’s trying to say that you’re uh…”
That happened in middle school. Those words cut into me. Just like the middle part of my bra would cut and continually chafe my skin whenever I ran, because I was insecure about how a sports bra would make me look. I’d keep running, adjusting every now and then, but there was no way to avoid the stinging. And like those words, the chafing would only burn more when left to treat it in my own privacy.
Chafing stings like a bitch and scars. Words do too.
Only recently did I realize how much those comments and my body perception cut into me. So much that my college boyfriend asked once, “why do you hate yourself so much?” So much that every single morning I’d look in the mirror and try to figure out which shirts could make my chest…or lack thereof look less obvious, at least ambiguous. I’d look at other girls and think that it wasn’t fair, as if I had control over how my body is shaped. I worried about what people thought, especially since comments about physical appearance seemed to insinuate something of a personality flaw. Whenever I went to the gym to lift, I’d do exercises for my butt. Leg press, squats, lunges, all kind of lunges. At least I had control on that part of my body. I could make that part of my body more shapely, I thought.
Writing this now makes me cringe…and it also makes me realize how this perception affected so many avenues of my life. Being insecure about one aspect of my body was a poison that leaked without direction.
A few months after joining November Project, I was still pretty quiet, pretty shy (I am by nature even though April Cargill doesn’t believe me). Our tribe announced a summer Olympics-themed workout. I decided that I wouldn’t be bland. Why not actually dress up this time? I pulled out the size 28 swimsuit from high school. Anyone know anything about suits for competitive swimming? They’re tight, so you can be streamlined. They’re so tight, you have dance to get in and out of these things. Anyone know what that meant for me? That’d you’d get to see just how flat. JFSDKLJEWIOEWREN!
But. I figured this zany November Project tribe would have such quirky, outlandish get-ups that no one would really notice me in a tight race suit anyway, and the workout would be only 45 minutes long and I’d survive, and could I please breathe now? This one time, I could follow that string of creativity in my mind instead of letting that body insecurity blanket over. My brother even tattooed the Olympic Rings on my back for some extra spice. That morning, with the Olympics-anthem blaring from Jeanie Tinelly’s fanny-pack speakers, I ran from exercise to exercise. The workout antics were so ridiculous that I forgot about what I looked like. The body-insecurity-head-trash didn’t even cross my mind. In those 45 minutes, I was more concerned with perfecting my free throw shot. My workout partner, Maura Humann, and I sucked ass at those.
Please stand for the Summer Olympics Opening Ceremony
We gathered on the steps at the end, and the co-leaders pulled out Olympic medals (aka random shit from Duane Reade). “The swimmer, where’s the swimmer?” They pointed in my direction and waved a blue little pony with a rainbow-colored mane. Who, me?
If not for the post workout high, I probably would’ve been shaking to stand in front of 150 people, some of whom were friends but most I still hadn’t yet talked to. That moment, I stood in front of the tribe, wearing this tight race suit. Yes, I (capital I) did – in this body that was called a runway, this body that has scars from unnecessary chafing, this body. In that moment, I did not wear my insecurities. How freeing that was, to feel okay. I realize “okay” is such a boring and neutral word but it’s a stark contrast to shitty void that I had felt since that runway comment from middle school. That morning I felt so okay that even after the workout, I ran through the bustling streets of midtown Manhattan, smiling like a doofus and clutching the blue pony in my hand, still wearing that race swimsuit without care.
Yeah I won the Olympics, and I’m a pretty big deal.
Since that workout, I’ve worn sports bras, suspenders (damn those things give a bad wedgie), a blue unicorn onesie. Most recently I carried a wooden stick, better known as the Positivity Award, as I ran/aggressively hiked Wachusetts Mountain for summit. Most days, I run wearing a sense of freedom. I had told Annelise Mecca that even a couple months after first showing up to November Project, I still felt shy and insecure. She said I shouldn’t, that everyone is friendly and warm and accepting, that this shit is good. Those words, I think about a lot. Those words encouraged me to wear just a sports bra and dance without abandon in the rain at the end of a workout. And you know what? I didn’t melt, I didn’t wither. No one at November Project has ever made fun of my body or how I look.
Wearing a sports bra in the dead of summer and running with my friends at NP is absolutely no fun.
A lot of this worry, this negativity from my body insecurity, I now realize, is self-inflicted, from those words that were etched in like chafing scars. But I know my strength and my open quirkiness now would not be possible if I didn’t feel safe, if I didn’t have November Project. I think about that moment when I stood in front of the tribe baring my biggest insecurity. It felt like I fell from a great height, and there was a net, no, a soft pillow to catch me. Here’s a line that sums it up, from the OG BG: “I’ve never forgotten how that feeling of inclusiveness can allow you to reach your full expression.” Thank you November Project, for providing that inclusiveness, for catching me so I don’t fall into a dark vortex of body insecurities (phrase stolen from Tory Dube). Thank you thank you for being here.
Even in midtown Manhattan where suits are a plenty, I felt at peace – being so comfortable in my body and this warm onesie. Because I have you all.
Sparknotes/Wisconsin Notes for takeaways since this is turning into a novel:
- Be kind(er) to yourself
- Follow that “what if”, that curiosity
- Surround yourself with people that will catch you but also be someone that will support/catch others
- Wear whatever the fuck you want and own it
