Saturday, February 09, 2008

Tiny Plump Dancer

A few albums I couldn't live without as a kid: Flashdance, Fame, ABBA Gold, Xanadu. I knew every word. I studied the liner notes, the lyrics, the photos. They were my dance albums.

Saturday nights, I studied the moves of the Solid Gold dancers. In particular, the tall, black girl with crazy long hair. She was by far, the best. She owned that stage. I copied her moves and added my own twists. I danced in my parents bedroom because it was big and had a full length mirror. I'd leap into the air, twirl across the hard wood floor and kick my leg high into the air ... always carefully as not to make the records skip.

What's cute looking back was that I was a plump little girl. I had big legs (still do), chubby cheeks (still do) and nice round belly (still do). I discovered the evils of body image when I signed up for Ms. Miller's Ballet Classes. In my baby blue leotard and pink tights, I was much rounder than the rest of the little girls. They were all nice enough not to say anything though. Despite my chunkiness, I held my own in that class ... and the tap, toe and jazz classes that followed. I was the tiny, plump dancer.

Body Image: Yeah, I won't get into it. I could write a novel about my struggles with body image. But I won't. Not now. I'll continue to battle those demons on my own.

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