#TallPhysique

[plusduchess]

Swimmer's Back

In 2009, I went shopping for the perfect, perfectly-priced wedding dress with expectations that every magical, tear-jerking, joyful experience I’d ever heard of or saw as to what this process was suppose to be would be mine. Million dollar phrase - “suppose to be”.

My search took me to a little storefront boutique about 20 minutes from my capitol city. It was packed with dresses, and I was sure that my search would end there. And, actually, it did! Just not how I thought it would.

I found a white, sweetheart, semi-mermaid/a-line, lightly beaded, corset-back dress that I could afford. Of course it wasn’t long enough to cover my feet in heels, BUT I had planned on wearing flats anyway in preparation for a long day.

It had just enough train for my liking; nothing I couldn’t turn around in. Not too girly, but made me feel pretty, you know? It was a nice dress. I loved it and was excited! Not teary but excited. The feeling was short-lived.

1st off...I was read.

I had a hard time tying up the back of the dress in the dressing room, so I had to come out and get some help from the shopkeeper - a little white lady with brunette hair and gray roots. I explained to her that it felt like the little dickey piece under the corset wasn’t covering my back properly.

She motioned me to turn around so she could see; I followed directions hoping I had missed some loops because I really wanted this dress to work. Once she was facing my back, this little old lady said, “Aw yeah…you’ve got swimmer’s back.” Very matter of fact, I might add. 

“Swimmer’s back? I don’t even swim like that?” - I thought it was something swimmers catch. #Don’tJudgeMe

She went on to suggest that I should find a bigger, similar piece of fabric and replace the dickey with it. And like a lightbulb: “Is my back that big!?” I had never even thought about it before. I knew I was big/built from the front because of my adolescent and teen life experiences, but my back, too?! I just had never thought about it before.

Then in the same moment: “I really am built like a man.”  Backstory...(cue the wavy circles):

Being tall was not my only problem growing up. Honestly, I don’t think I was nearly as picked on about my height as I was my build OR how my height accentuated my build.

I’ve always been more athletically built and physically stronger than most girls, especially in junior high; but not because of anything I did to get that way. [Exercise? Working out? What's that?] I’m just the epitome of “you yo daddy’s child”. Outside of my boobs, vagina, & uterus, I am a physical version of him and it made me a target in school. 

“She looks lika man” was the most common joan I got from the boys. “Look at her hands...DAMN?! or Her hands bigger than mine?!” The insults got more derogatory with each passing grade as male virginities were lost and 90s rap and R&B lyrics and videos permeated households.

I tried to do things that got the manly attention off of me by being girly, but that was hard for a tomboy such as myself to do. The joans would stop, though, to my surprise. I’d get a few flirts and compliments...but joaned shortly after because showing interest in the man-looking girl was a setup to become the star of a multiple-class and -hallway joan session. That was just too big of a risk for most dudes back then.

...cue in wavy circles! Back to little storefront boutique...

A familiar feeling was looking back at me in the mirror as I stood in my anticipated wedding dress, and I was trying hard not to succumb to it. However, I made sure not to turn around and look at the corset strings again.

2nd off...my momma.

I brought my momma along with me on this trip thinking we’d share some mother-daughter bonding and a potential mother-daughter moment if I found my dress. But if you know me, my momma, and/or both of us collectively...you know our perceptions of style is pretty much Glossy verse Matte. She’s glamtastic. I’m simplistic. It’s been that way since I first voiced my clothing preference over hers as a kid. So I have no idea why I had my Walt Disney shades on this day!? 

Not only was she not moved by the dress, she told me “that’s not the one...you need to keep looking.” I can’t say I was surprised, but...them damn Disney shades! I KNOW MY MOMMA! I just hoped that we’d share the excitement (and potential tears) over my dress like it happened on tv. #LIES

So...at this point...not only have I caught swimmer’s back, but my dress didn’t give me and my momma a moment. I was over it. Still going to buy the dress, but definitely over this experience. I thought I looked nice in it. I felt nice in it. AND I COULD AFFORD IT! So I bought it.

Remembering

From that day until the wedding, I would randomly try on the dress because I liked it so much! But the happiness of each faux fitting was conflicted by my contracted swimmer’s likeness.

One time, I really took notice of myself - my body...front and back, head to toe, in and out of the dress. I noticed [and critiqued] everything: old stretchmarks, new stretchmarks, symmetric inconsistencies; how wide my shoulders were, my hands and feet; how effortlessly toned my muscles were, and how hipless I was. The joans from 1994-2000 replayed on the big screen.

“I really am built to be the female version of a male basketball player.”

This caused me to start second-guessing my wedding dress, so I continued shopping. In the process of a Google search, I ran across a body-type chart similar to this one:

except it had a description of the type of people who commonly fit each category. I remember seeing: “athletes - basketball, baseball, swimmers...” under the Inverted Triangle category.

The caricature of this category looked the most like me, and people had deemed those professions my future since I was little. So. If it walks like a duck...it’s an inverted triangle. This was the first time that junior high was officially solidified in my adulthood. Can’t say it made me feel any better about my physique [because I wanted hips], but at least I had a name for it?!

Shortly after this, I was watching something about the 2008 Summer Olympics, and it was featuring the men’s swim races, particularly Michael Phelps. I watched his physique. Long limbs, triangularly inverted body shape, big hands, and wide backs...all just like mine. I had never paid attention to swimmers’ physiques until that moment, and I thought: “Wow?” I started to feel myself body-shaming myself on the permissions of 1994-97 and the little old shopkeeper.

I ultimately stuck with the dress, because all the other alternatives were too high! PLUS, I really liked the dress! I don’t know how I made it through my wedding day feeling beautiful, but I did. The negative body images were there; but I think I was too caught up in the excitement of marrying my friend, to dwell on it.

Reframing residue.

Those junior high comments do still effect me 20+ years later. Not nearly as intense, but in a residue form. For instance, the joans from back then (and some other life lies) crippled me in knowing how to receive genuine compliments. That’s a new muscle that I work on daily. Not the easiest thing in the world for me to do. It’s work. I mean...it was junior high where these insecurities took root, so it has taken time and maturity [and other life experiences] to show me me differently.

What I’ve had to do is practice checking myself by changing the way that I appreciate my physique...appreciate my self:

“But are you dead, though?! You got a working back, don’t you!? What is you tripping fah?”; “…but you have the ability of your limbs, right? You need to be saying ‘THANK YOU LORD!! Get cho’self tahgetha, because there’s nothing you can do about it but dress it up and embrace it.”

Now the thing that I had to realize - for my situation - is that I pretty much had to be self-reliant in my own self-love success. DUH - I know, but let me explain. It’s fairly easy to take a rode that’s already been mapped out, and difficult in the contrast. So because I was never really taught how to find inner strength, I struggle while creating my own.

You see, there were no women around built like me to be physically self-empowered by. There was no Google, or Pinterest, or internet accessibility as it is today; so all I had was magazines and TV, which definitely did not have a my build on or in them. Yeah, I could’ve looked towards WNBA stars, but I was determined not to fulfill the pre-determined destiny of being a basketball player. I just didn’t think that was my future. So - in certain moments - it was hard not seeing myself as my peers had seen me. A manly girl.

There was no one around to counter the beginnings of my insecurities back then. I didn’t have anyone/-thing combating the hormonal attics I got daily, or my growing, toxic notions resulting from them. In all fairness, being an introvert, nobody for real knew my internalization. My momma tried to encourage me as she saw me chased down and punch every boy who teased me; but she’s a femininely built 5′4″ woman that has no problem finding EVERYTHING in her size...no way she could understand my plight?!

So when I say it takes work to unlearn a toxic, habitual way of thinking about yourself? Bay-bae...that’s what I mean! But anything worth having is worth fighting for.

Luckily, I’ve learned how to practice mentally telling myself “#EffYourBeautyStandards”. AGAIN, IT’S WORK...but it is the key! Once you do that more often than you think negatively of yourself, everything else has to line up. Will line up. I have not mastered this practice, but rather I’m mastering it with everyday of my life.

I’m in a better headspace about my body than I was back then - the past and the present “back then”. I do still want hips, though!! BUT not to balance out the width of my back anymore, but rather so I can be bomb approaching people in my razorback, midi bodycon dresses a*k*a my favorites!

Funny that some of those same guys that built their joan sessions around me back then have flirted with me in some capacity since junior high. I’ve also been told that some of the standbyers who laughed really didn’t see anything wrong with my build. Can’t say it made me feel any better, but it did show me just how stupid boys are. :-P So embrace yourself. Your opinion is ultimately all that matters. Especially to your Self. That’s how a manly-built, swimmer’s back can become a fashion designer’s canvas.

- Love, Duchess💋