Last week, I attended FitBloggin’ 2013, a conference for healthy living oriented bloggers in Portland, OR.
There were a lot of bits about that trip that were worthy of note, but one of the standouts for me was participating in a fashion show.
It was organized by the incredible Emmie, who asked participants if they’d be willing to model with just a sports bra and no shirt ahead of time. Over email I was very cavalier about it. It’s just my body and why shouldn’t other people see what I look like in a sports bra? Isn’t that the whole point of modeling something? So that other people can see what it looks like on an actual body? It’s no big deal. And the more I act like it’s no big deal, the more it isn’t one. Right? !!
But as it loomed ever closer, I started to have some feelings. About the looking and the seeing and the putting it all out there. I was nervous. Scared, even. Feelings that increased dramatically as I was lined up in the hallway waiting for my turn to step out and walk the runway.
When it was time, I put on some cheap pink sunglasses and stomped out in the conference room and whipped off my shirt, throwing it aside with a maniacal vigor, displaying my shiny pink Enell sports bra in all its glory.
I blame the nerves. I was so scared that I just went balls deep. I did not so much as walk the runway, as strut it. Like a jive talking peacock. I’m not sure I could walk like this again now if I wanted to.
I got to one end, leaned over, and I shimmied. It was all “God wouldn’t have given you maracas if he didn’t want you to shake ’em!” It was a shimmy I had never managed to produce in any Zumba or dance class or in any of my own comedic stylings.
There was one more point on the runway that I had to get to and then it would be over. I was still riding on a wave of adrenaline. I know there was a huge room full of people, but I didn’t really see them.
The whole point of a sports bra is to control bounce, so I felt like I should probably demonstrate. In my mind I was going to do jumping jacks, but what happened instead, I think, was chaotic, gleeful leaping.
And that was that. The entire group did some rounds all together, walking around in a line, with none of the pressure that the solo performance did.
We finished and I put my shirt back on, high on exhilaration.