We woke upto pastel lycra and a bounce in the beat—We started with aerobics at dawn,counted every calorie by noon,and aimed for a “beach body” by du
We woke up
to pastel lycra and a bounce in the beat—
We started with aerobics at dawn,
counted every calorie by noon,
and aimed for a “beach body” by dusk.
Jump, twist, squeeze, breathe—
Richard Simmons told us we were fabulous,
while the scale told us we were not.
Jane Fonda said “feel the burn,”
and oh, we did—
not just in our thighs,
but in our minds.
We were growing into women
in a world that whispered through magazine gloss:
“Stay small. Stay quiet. Stay desirable.”
Trim waist,
tight abs,
tucked-in shame.
We loved to move.
We loved to sweat.
It felt like freedom—
Until it didn’t.
Until the mirror became a courtroom.
Until the praise came with price tags and hush tones.
We were supposed to look like the kids
from the movie Fame, but they were
kids. Kids who had been dancing nearly all of their
lives.
So—
we got VHS tapes and quick-fix books,
penned by women who weren’t allowed to age.
And those two-hour TV movies came next—
girls fainting in locker rooms,
tears behind toilet stalls,
but nobody naming
the machine.
“Societal pressure.”
“Magazines.”
“Models.”
Vague shadows,
never the architects.
Never the executives.
Never the industries.
And some of those models?
They’re not here anymore.
We remember them with hush in our throats
and sorrow in our stomachs.
So now we say this:
This series is for the girls who grew up
in Spandex and silence,
for the women reclaiming body
as boundary,
as birthright,
as home.
We’re gonna talk about body safety,
agency,
and autonomy—
Because staying alive
is more important than staying thin.
And being whole
is greater than being small.
