It is funny the things that stick with you, and why. When I was younger, my Aunt Deloris was my Beyoncé. We are 12 years apart, the same as me and my younger sister. I remember wanting to be like her in very specific ways. She took dance, I wanted to take dance. She liked New Edition, so did I--in fact I didn't even know their early hit singles came out before I was even talking because I knew them from her. She wore peach to her prom, and well...so did I. It wasn't a cognizant admiration, in fact, it wasn't until adulthood that I realized how much of an impact she had on me. 

We were playing outside in my backyard at our first house in Mableton, doing cartwheels. She was trying to teach me how to do a roundoff. You have those thick cheerleader legs, you need to be a cheerleader! Come on and practice these roundoffs. My roundoff was never really that good, even after years of cheer and even gymnastics lessons. To be honest, I was too afraid to really try. Still, when Debie convinced my mom to let me try out for cheerleading in 7th grade, citing its positive effects on confidence, charisma, involvement and of course, exercise, it was a done.deal. I had never tried out for anything before and the whole week was physical agony (at least according to memory). Still, it was, I believed, exactly what I was supposed to be doing. What else does a girl with thick thighs do besides dance, cheer, and tumble?  

I loved those skirts. I loved those shorts. I loved being outside, and I loooooved that boys loved those shorts. Sue me, I was a teenage girl. More pressingly, I loved myself. I was doing what I believed my body was made to do and I don't remember it crossing my mind to not. I was never going to fly through the air, but I took pride in being strong. Thick. Solid. In high school, where I failed in running and jumping, I excelled in lifting and stunting. And somewhere in the back of my head I kept the words from my aunt, these were a cheerleaders legs and there was nothing bad about that.  

As an adult, far less active than I used to be, I still harbor a particular affinity for my bottom half. Let's be honest, I love my top half too. Sure there are problem areas that I wish I could permanently photoshop to perfection by I'll say 90% of the time, I adore my body. Obviously not because I'm a cheerleader, but because my aunt gave me something that day far more substantial than cheer. She gave me perspective. It wasn't just that my thighs were BIG, they were muscular they were STRONG and they had a reason for being the way that they were...are. She gave me a way of looking at my body and making positive meaning out of what most would consider flaws. She gave me a sense of pride, and with that goal of being a cheerleader, as inconsequential as it may seem, she made the space for me to find purpose. My body was not flawed and accidental, I was intention and on purpose, and it's a lesson I have taken with me in life. Everything and everyone has a purpose, it is our job to find out what ours is. 

As an adult woman who delights in the company and sorority of other women, I can tell the women who have been hating their bodies for a long time. Similarly, I can tell the women who have not. Doing my dissertation research gave me a sort of freedom to begin having candid conversations with women about their bodies. And it also started an ongoing internal dialogue with me about my own. I notice what I gravitate towards and what I shy away from. I love hiking because it's taught me endurance, strength, and persistence. Hiking never makes me feel like my body is a burden. I love yoga too, but damn if (most) the yoga community doesn't make me feel like my kind are not welcome her even though slowly but sure people like Jessamyn and Alex V are changing the face (and shape) of yoga. 

I just think about the messages. The messages we give women and girls about what their bodies should and could be capable of. The spaces and places we have been told are for or against  us and how we invest those messages as truth. I am so grateful for aunt Deloris who gave me a sense of understanding and appreciation for my body BEYOND the same tired old shit that society tries to perpetuate. I am happy for every doctor my mother argued down when they claimed I was "technically healthy" but "still needed to lose weight." I am blessed for Coach Horn, Coach Barron, Coach Brown who told me I COULD train, I COULD lift weights, I COULD survive the cross country trails and not only could I, but I better! The did not make exceptions out of me just because I was bigger, and in a BIG way that was a BIG blessing because it communicated to me that I was just as capable as anyone else, as everyone else. I was not working at a deficit because of the shape of my body, and I was still expected to try, and push through. And I did, because I trusted them when they told me I was strong. Just like I trusted my aunt. Just like I've learned to trust myself; knowing that wherever it is I'm suppose to go, my thigh thighs are going to get me there.