Prior to entering middle school, I was fully aware of my physical imperfections. After all, I grew up in a Latin American household, where terms of endearment are based upon your height (chaparra - short, gigantona - tall), weight (flaca - skinny, gorda - fat), and or skin color (chela - fair skin, morena - dark skin). When it was picture day at school, I was reminded to smile with my mouth closed because my teeth were too big, and my family did not want to pay for images in which big teeth were captured. I was also reminded that form fitted clothes were not necessarily the best option for my cadaver-like figure. To be honest with you, the comments made by my family did not bother me because I understood they were not meant to be hurtful. And so, I made sure my pictures came back with images where no teeth were exposed, and wore loose fitting clothes to school so my skinny silhouette did not stand out.
Then came middle school. Apparently, all the imperfections I was indifferently aware of were very obvious to my peers, and they felt the need to point them out. Within the first few days of sixth grade, a boy told another group of middle school boys that I looked like a "beaver" because my teeth were really big. Ironically, that young man had bigger teeth than me, but his family was able to afford braces, so he had a social and financial advantage over me that made him feel justified in making fun of my lower socioeconomic teeth. I remember going home multiple times after being called "beaver" throughout the school day and wrapping aluminum foil around my teeth wondering what it would look like if my family could afford to give me braces (no chance in hell as there were six of us and my mother earned minimum wage in a chicken factory where she removed bones from chickens). Now, don't get me wrong, I was no wallflower by any means, and you best believe I fought back and defended myself from anyone who tried to break my spirit. But the truth of the matter was, damage had been done, and the large teeth that my family reminded me not to show during picture day were now exposed to the entire school. There was nothing I could do but try to keep my lips closed every time I wanted to chuckle, or smile for the camera.
But it was the day in which a boy I had a major crush on informed one of my friends why he was not attracted to me, that genuinely altered the way I felt about myself for decades. He told my friend that he was not attracted to me because he thought my legs were unattractive. In his words, my legs were "too skinny." As I had previously stated, my family had already made me aware of my skinny frame, but it never dawned on me that a specific part of my body was deemed as too extreme. That day, at the age of 13, I went home and looked into a full length mirror, and I believed what he said. And I hated what I saw. I allowed for another human being to define a part of my body as being too extreme for society. I became extremely conscious of ever allowing the public to see my skinny legs. In my head, dresses never looked good on me, shorts were an apparel that made a mockery out of me, and skirts only highlighted what I dreaded seeing - skinny legs.
If I could go back in time, I would tell the adolescent me just how powerful those skinny legs are. I would tell her that those skinny legs will cross the finish line of multiple half-marathons, and marathons. I would tell her that those skinny legs will be powerful enough to trek across challenging obstacle courses to earn her the title of one of the few and the proud "Marine." But most importantly, those skinny legs will help her carry the gift of life. The life of two beautiful daughters whose existence will bring a smile to her face so wide, there will be no need to keep the lips closed anymore.
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| All smiles and shorts during a half marathon. |
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