Meg strolls by, a camera bag slung over her shoulder. “Get it, Cubby,” she says without any passion at all.
“You get it,” I say with a jump-kick. “And make sure to get lots of shots of my thighs. They’re looking good today.”
“Just stay in front of the sheet this time. It will make it easier to edit in later the ridiculous backgrounds you request.”
There are many topics I hope to educate people about with my work, but body positivity is right at the top. It’s a common misconception that people with bigger bodies like mine are physically unhealthy or out of shape, but that’s just not true. Bodies are way more complicated than that, and you can’t come up with simple rules. There’s no one right way that a body should look.
And bodies with health challenges? Bodies that aren’t so good for jumping around like an excited dork? Those are just as sexy and good and worth celebrating.
I hitch up my shorts and slow dance over to the shooting area Meg has staged. “I’m going to start off with some moves from the club,” I say, wiggling my hips. “Maybe add in some from aerobics.”
The chainsaws roar across the lake, distracting me, not so much because of the noise, but because of my spiked awareness of Chase’s bare, sweaty chest.
“Pull up that playlist on my laptop, will you?” I ask Meg. “Loud, please. I’m ready to shine.”
A second later, the music starts, my favorite pop songs blaring through the speakers while I leap around like I’ve just won the lottery. I throw everything into it, all my best moves and some ecstatically improvised new ones too. Meg circles me, taking video with one camera while the other sits poised on the tripod, and I do my best to leap and spin and shimmy with the view in mind.
My muscles burn, and sweat is pouring down my face. It’s exhausting, but I don’t slow down. My enthusiasm needs to carry this. I want to show everyone how good I feel in my body because it’s taken me a hell of a long time to get here, and I’m proud of all the work and growing I’ve done.
Whenever there’s a break in the music, though, I hear the chainsaws, cutting through the afternoon.
I embody the “Single Ladies” dance, bouncing my hips and shaking my arms over by the windows again. There’s a blessed moment of silence, and then Chase and his friend emerge again, just as shirtless and even sweatier than before.
“Cubby?” Meg calls out. “You’ve left the shot.”
I kick my legs high, clapping my hands as the machines roar again. I glare out the window while I dance, delirious from pushing myself to the edge.
Chase is torturing me. He’s like genetically engineered to push all my buttons, starting with his unreasonably sexy beard and the way he’s just so goddamn good and wholesome. And worst of all, when I try to flirt with him, he doesn’t turn me down. He just responds with this shy, sweet smile that makes me want him even more.
“I! Can’t! Stop! Thinking! About! You!” I shout with the music, then throw the door open to the deck.
“Action shots,” Meg says. “I guess that works.”
I dance defiantly out onto the deck, summoning my strength to put on a real show for him. If he’s going to go and torture me with his body when I’m supposed to be working, I can goddamn do the same to him.
Although, as the minutes stretch on and I gasp and sputter and jump-kick across the deck, I realize that a lot of this might be in my head.
When I simply can’t go anymore, I collapse onto the deck, sucking in desperate gulps of air. Meg walks over and points the camera down at me. “Anything else you want to say?”
Panting, I wipe sweat off my face. “Do you think he saw me?”
“Not sure. The inspiration definitely helped bring out your best moves, though.”
Meg fetches me a cold glass of water, and for the next few minutes, I lie right there, the sun beating down on me. It’s quiet now, the chainsaw and the music both stopped. But my peace is short-lived because a moment after I sit up again, a ringing noise fills the house.
“Oh God!” I yelp. “Meg, I think there’s a fire.”
Meg sighs, walking straight into the house. “It’s a landline, Cubby.”
“Oh.”
She answers, mumbling something I can’t hear, then strolls back to the deck, offering me the chunky cordless phone. “It’s for you.”
“Moi?” I ask, hand on my chest.
“Your boyfriend.”
My heart jumps as I grab the phone. “Hello? This is Cubby.”
