It’s a hot day at the end of the school year. 92 degrees feels even more oppressive given the humidty and “urban heating” of our public school. I am dressed in a t-shirt, black sweatpants and sneakers. I am 11 years old, and know for sure I am too fat to wear shorts.
I walk to my seat in the back of the classroom and sit next to my only three friends in the class, V., A. and S. They are all wearing shorts. V. immediately stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Why on earth are you wearing sweatpants today? It’s 90 degrees out!”
“I’m too fat to wear shorts.” I say, my head down, eyes memorizing the floor.
V. Tells my I’m crazy to wear sweat pants on such a hot day, especially when the whole class is going outside for the end of the year party. A. and S. quickly agree with her. I look at my bookbag and mumble that I brought a change of shorts with me for after school, I just don’t feel comfortable wearing them here. V. eggs me on until I run into the bathroom to change.
The morning goes by quickly and at noon we are released from the room and out into the school yard for the fair. I feel exposed, and enormous. I’m positive everyone in the school yard is focused on me and my thunder thighs, which carry my womanly 160 pound body from game to game.
Only somehow nobody notices. Nobody cares. I wore shorts on a hot day and the world hasn’t come to an end. And I felt physically comfortable instead of hot and sweaty.
I’ve been a number of different sizes since that day (both higher and lower than 160 pounds), but have never again felt the need to hide my body the way I did that morning.
I will always be grateful to my best friend V. for pushing me out of my comfort zone and into a comfortable pair of shorts on that hot summer day.
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