Before the Bo’Po’ Police start tearing me apart for the title… FEAR NOT… I have curves and I wouldn’t want it any other way. This is more of a thought that has been with me for most of this week following a random question from a relative stranger…
On Monday night I was getting ready for a Zumba class that I’ve attended on (and off) for almost two years now. Usually I wear a really flappy, incredibly oversized black tee that helps the air to circulate, but also covers the ‘lumps and bumps’ on days I’d rather not be flaunting them; but on this day, I threw caution to the wind and popped on a different top. To be precise this was a comfortable, but fitted t-shirt that had “Curves On Fleek” emblazoned across the front. Dance shoes on. Hair up. I was good to go.
Once we were in the studio a lady (of whom I’ve noted before for taking the moves very seriously and also the obvious fact that she was / is a professional dancer) chasséd over to me and quite abruptly pointed at my chest and said “What does that mean?” I was quite taken aback initially, but began to reply “Well, I have curves and I’m proud of them…” To which she continued (again, quite abruptly…) “Mmm, and THAT, what does THAT mean… ‘on fleek’?” By this point I felt like I was being pulled up by some sort of authoritarian and my confidence was beginning to sink to an all time low. “It means, y’know… ‘good’, ‘on point’…” To which she simply replied “Oh” and hot-stepped back to her spot.
An innocent question to her, I’m sure… but to me? Not so much. In that brief exchange of words, my confidence had plummeted (and then some) and I spent the class unfocused, distracted by her words, conscious of my size and it occurred to me… For all that I try and inspire in others, I don’t with myself. If a friend had told me about what had happened, I’d be full of the head-bobbing and “guuuurlfren… you don’t know how good you look” comments. But not today. I don’t feel confident in my skin. If I did, I don’t think I would’ve been so knocked. It’s literally played in my mind every day since.
So, I’m taking control and sorting myself out, by putting me first. My relationship with food is one of comfort and last minute considerations. I need to plan and recognise that food is fuel for my body. Eat well… move more, so the next time someone (rudely) asks “What’s ‘curves on fleek’?” I can simply reply “Me.”