I eventually dropped out of the class, not because of my issues, but because I hated tap class. I had to take tap and ballet together, and I strongly preferred the grace and fluidity of ballet to the cacophony of tap. I begged and pleaded to be let out of the class, and my mother finally gave in. I'm not sure if she gave in because of my hatred of tap, or the fact that she would no longer have to drive me to another lesson. That year I was also in Brownies and piano, so I was in the car a lot that fall. I'm sure no longer having to hear my tap shoes clack against the slate floor of our foyer was also a welcome change.
Puberty hit me with a vengeance. I had hips before most of my classmates, and by the time I was in the sixth grade, I was one of the tallest and largest students in the class, even though my weight barely crept into the 100s. I was called fat by the boys and many of the girls distanced themselves from me. Oh, to be the duckling.
In the seventh grade, an ice storm hit the area and I had to walk over an icy sidewalk to get into my school. I fell on the concrete and was consequently late to class. When my teacher asked where I had been, I told her I fell, and one of the boys, who was also the class clown (and eventually became a high school dropout) remarked, "Yeah, couldn't you feel the ground shake? " My cheeks burned with shame and instead of thinking, "asshole," tears stung my lids. I never let him see me cry. The boy who said this was the object of my affection. He was funny and talented, and for him to say that was the worst thing that happened that year. To this day, any time someone teases another girl for being bigger, I pull out a picture of myself at her age to assure her that she will have the last laugh.
In the years since, I have always been self conscious and conscientious of my body. Although my pot belly disappeared into a tiny waist (24 inches in high school and 26 inches as of 5 months ago), my disproportionately larger legs always made me feel as though I was much larger than I ever really was. My upper body, until recently, was a size 4, and my lower body was a size 8. Despite this, I always felt like a big person. Perhaps I was a bit hard on myself.
Today I went through my pre-pregnancy clothes to put away until I can (and will) wear them again after pregnancy. I could write many of them off and simply acknowledge that my body will never be the same, but I am still determined to try my damnedest to be fit and in shape after pregnancy. I may have to donate some clothes that were already tight on my before, but I am still optimistic that I can do it. Once I do fit back into those clothes (I can still wear an 8, but the waist and hips are tight), I will appreciate my body more for what it is.
I will find out the sex of the baby on Tuesday. If it's a girl, when she hits an awkward stage, I will try to do for her what I do for my girls in school, and I will be there when the kids are mean, because they will be, and I will be a growling momma bear--this much I already know because I am with my own students. If I have a boy, I will try to make sure that he is not one of the boys who crushes a girl's heart and self esteem. Thank goodness my husband doesn't make harsh remarks, because he will be the biggest role model for our boy, if it is a boy.
Maybe it takes a profound change to realize how stupid and foolish you were in the past. And in this case, change is good.
No comments:
Post a Comment