I had a rather exciting dance practice at school that Friday. The other three girls were there, which didn't occur often. This time, however, I knew exactly which one was Emma, which one was Lindsey, and which one was Grace.
However, if you asked me to describe their personalities, the only thing I could say is that Emma is nicer, and Grace is more prone to frustration when she fails.
The reality is that we barely talked, other than when Mrs. Sanchez made me do a routine with them.
And that Friday, practicing with them and learning new routines, as their style was vastly different from mine, left me hungry for more. And not because of the intermittent fasting.
Olivia was working, Marge wasn't feeling well, and Edith was with Charlie but, oddly enough, not at home and not at Marge's. I am not certain even our parents know where they are, and I am not going to tell them. I am her sister, not a snitch.
I was only wearing my leotard in front of the TV, playing some Mario Kart 8 on the Wii U when my parent served supper.
"Are you sure you will be ok alone, Kiddo? The last few times we went to the non-landed club, Edith was home."
"Mom, I am not a kid anymore; I am 14, almost 15. I could babysit kids!"
"I know, it's just, you had it rough."
I was more playing with my food than eating. In reality, something was eating me.
"Where is it tonight?" I asked
"The private high school," said my dad.
"Will Mrs. Sanchez be there?" I ask.
My mom replies. "She is still running for the presidency, so I suppose so. I don't think she's missed a single one since she moved to town."
"She didn't," said my dad.
I played some more with my food and just blurted. "Don't react, but could I go so I can practice with her?"
I was looking at my plate. I know they were suddenly all excited and happy. Having their daughter with them at the event would make them happy. But I was still figuring out myself.
Of course they agreed. My mother confirmed I would need to be nude, and I replied with something sarcastic to hide my fear. Something like, "D'uh, I used to go."
But I didn't undress, and when my parents left the kitchen to get dressed, I went into my room and did something daring.
I had only worn my leotard, so I had to put some clothes on. Looking in my dresser, I saw one garment that had been eluding me for so long.
Yes, my sundress. The one I couldn't wear due to a lack of breasts, and now, I could, other than the fact that I was now fat.
But the thing is, the sundress didn't care. I only cared if I could fill the cleavage, not if I pushed on the fabric, as it was 92% cotton and 8% spandex.
I did remove my leotard and took a look at my body.
Well, I could see changes. My stomach was still a bump, but it was no longer round. My hips were narrower, but my thighs had the most significant change. They were getting slimmer.
Weirdly, I feel like my breasts were also smaller. Maybe they had fat in them too?
I put the sundress on, and honestly? I decided that this was a better look on me than, well, almost anything else. It hid some of my problems, and the cut made it almost look like I was normal. Almost.
There is a limit as to what clothes can do, but a few more pounds and perhaps I could look good in this dress.
To say I was nervous on the drive to Lucy's school is an understatement. I was scared shitless.
My last real naturist event was the Nerf party soon after my 13th birthday, and I was almost 15.
Sure, I had been nude at home a few times since my birthday, and even with Marge and her family, but not in public and not recently.
Since then, I grew fat, but I also turned into a woman.
That was a plus, and I was losing that fat...
We stopped at the same school where Mindy met Billy. Who she was still dating, by the way. I didn't mention it because by not being a naturist anymore and not eating lunch with her, Mindy drifted apart. Fine, it was probably mostly my fault due to the Ritalin.
A new person was handling the admission fee, and that person chose to be nude to do it.
"Julie? You came?" says Mrs. Sanchez, sitting at the admission table.
"I felt like I needed more dance lessons."
"That sundress is just adorable on you. Don't you think so, Kylie?"
"It does, Gabriella," said my mother as my father put the money on the table.
"Ellie and Richard just arrived. I think they picked the women's changing room. I think Carmen and her family went into the men's changing room with Piper and Jaclyn."
"Thank you, Gabriella," says my father, grabbing his change. "No half-and-half tonight?"
"No, someone forgot the tickets," says Gabriella, exasperated.
"Luke?" Says my mom.
"Luke. It's like he doesn't even want to have a chance to win against me."
"Well, you have our vote, that is for sure," says my mom.
Mrs. Sanchez is all smiles. She leans forward. "I think most people who actually show up are going my way, but I don't know if he has pocket votes."
"Pocket votes?" Says my dad, confused.
"Ok, so we have 67 paying adult members."
"Wait, that many? We are rarely more than what, 30?" Says my mom.
"Exactly. So if the 30 who do show up actually vote, I will probably win it, and you will get to be treasurer if you still want to."
"I didn't say I wanted the role, just..." says my mom.
"You think there are weird things with the finances. Well, I agree. My point is, I don't know who the other 35 or so are. I can't campaign to get their votes. I don't even know if they will even vote. Maybe at the assembly, there will be like 20 people we never met who only come to vote."
"So what are you going to do against that?"
She laughs. "I am getting my own pocket votes."
"Such as?" My dad asked.
"Well, I am getting my sister, her husband, and my parents to join. Mateo's parents aren't naturists, but they joined last week to support me. They don't mind that we are naturists, and they will come to the vote. It's clothing optional; I checked."
"I don't know if I like that, having non-naturists vote in," says my dad.
"Well, I agree, but here is the thing. You know we are struggling. I know we are struggling. Everyone does. Sandra does too. But no one is doing anything. I will. But only if I win, but the problem is that I don't know who else supports the status quo, and frankly, it terrifies me. Like, I get it, this place is cheap, but why are we paying so much for the spa? Isn't that fishy?"
"Yeah. And why aren't more people joining tonight? We've been talking for a while, and no arrival."
Mrs. Sanchez sighs. "You didn't get the memo?"
"Which memo?"
"Luke texted people, but not me, and not Ellie, and not you visibly, that tonight it would start 30 minutes in advance. So most people were arriving when I arrived. I think he wanted to do a speech for his reelection, but I was there in advance, ruining it."
My mother sighed too. "Gabriella?"
"Yes, Kylie?"
"Let's get that boomer down. I will be your treasurer if you will have me."
Mrs. Sanchez smiles wide. "My pleasure. But he is a good man. He just doesn't have the vision to grow this club. We can't let his fears run the club. Did you know Ellie is now my running mate?"
"I did. She told me."
"Right, Charlie and Edith are dating. They are such an odd, cute couple. I'll let you get undressed. Julie, I will join you in the dance studio. You know where it is?"
"I do. Is Billy here?" I ask Mrs. Sanchez.
"No, but his father is. Did you want to talk to him?" Asked Mrs. Sanchez.
"No, on the contrary. I wanted to avoid him."
Mrs. Sanchez laughed, and we left for the woman's changing room.
We talked so long that it was empty. Nervous. I removed my sundress while my parents undressed.
This was my first time nude with others since, well, I became a woman.
My parents, now nude too, made sure I was okay and asked if I wanted them to walk with me to the dance studio. I told them that I preferred to walk there on my own to get used to this.
They left for the gym, and I went the other way to the studio.
I didn't meet anyone. I didn't see anyone. So, I just walked on my way and got there, alone, with a full wall mirror showing all of my defects. All of my extra pounds.
I had nowhere to hide from myself. I was nude, fully naked, with no clothes, towel, or obstacle to place between my body and the mirror.
Why didn't I bring my towel? I left it there, in the changing room, exposed, alone, perhaps even scared.
I couldn't sit anywhere, and that was the sentence of a naturist caught without their sitting towel.
Fortunately, I wasn't there to look at myself, and I wasn't there to sit anyway. I came to dance.
And dance I did.
One of the things I didn't mention was that one of the pairs of shoes I often wore for school can be counted as dance shoes. It's why Mrs. Sanchez didn't comment on my footwear and why I didn't mention anything.
You might be wondering why I was wearing dance shoes, and that would be an appropriate question for an oddball situation.
The only reason I am even thinking about my shoes in that dance studio, back then, is so I can escape the judging look of my reflection.
My school mandates the wearing of socks. They need to cover the ankle. It's stupid. I like wearing socks. They are comfy. What I don't like is high socks. I tend to prefer sockettes. Socks that cover only your feet.
But sockettes are banned by the dress code. Completely.
So, whole socks it is, right?
And yet, I kept noticing female students like Emma, Lindsey, Grace, Marge, and quite a few other girls walking around with bare ankles, with no one saying anything to them! Apparently, when a girl wears dance shoes without socks, it's like the teachers assume they will have a dance practice or something. Maybe they just stopped caring. Either way, we found a loophole.
Even Mrs. Sanchez does the same now, but I know it wasn't like that last year, before she arrived. Because while on the Ritalin, my socks were annoying.
So, I would wear sneakers with soquettes to school and change into dance shoes. Marge soon copied me soon after. With her autism, it made her feel so much better.
Oh, that reminds me. I really want to think about anything other than the fact that in any minute, Mrs. Sanchez will see my ugly, deformed-by-fat body, won't I?
I am just about 8 years removed from the event, and my heart is still beating as I am writing this. Anyway, Marge told me something while I was on Ritalin that didn't register with me then.
I was mostly under brain fog all the time, and how seriously Marge is talking is often inversely proportional to her volume. Fine, not when triggered, but when calm, she will lower her voice to say something really personal.
That day, I heard it. I committed it to memory enough to be able to recall it as I was looking at myself dancing in the mirror. But back then? I reacted as strongly as when a commercial for Viagra plays on the TV as a not-yet sexual woman. With almost complete emotional detachment.
But now, as I was dancing barefoot on the dance floor of Lucy's high school, I could understand what Marge was talking about.
Marge is on the autism spectrum. That notably means that she gets overstimulated by, well, everything. Noise, lights, images, videos, speech, tastes, touch, and temperature changes. Anything adds to her stimuli, which she is unable to filter. It all comes at her at full speed.
Well, when she is nude, she doesn't feel her clothes because, news flash, she isn't wearing any. That's one fewer stimulus. You would think that she wouldn't feel the towel, or the floor, or anything, but she does anyway through her clothes. That her bedsheets touch her skin directly isn't more stimulus for her. It's one less due to the lack of a pajama.
By wearing dance shoes, she cut socks from her stimulation and reassured her.
I suddenly tense up. The door just opened.
"Julie, you are magnificent. You have such grace," says Mrs. Sanchez.
I do not turn to see her, but I realize that I can in the mirror. We are both completely nude.
Nothing weird; my social studies teacher is nude with me in a private high school. All normal. Nothing serious.
"Hi Mrs. Sanchez, thank you for the opportunity for more training. Sorry to take your time," I tell her, having practiced it.
She gets closer.
"Julie, do you understand that we couldn't be nude at school, even if we wanted to?"
"Of course."
"Do you understand that we couldn't wear leotards here, even if we wanted to."
"I could."
She laughs. "Right, you could. Of course you could. But you chose not to, and I applaud that. But you know what I mean."
"I do. It's a different context."
"Exactly. So, at school, what is my name?"
"Mrs. Sanchez."
"And here?"
I look at her, confused.
"Gabriella. In here, I am Gabriella, and I am not your teacher; I am your friend. Outside here, even if we meet in the street, I am Mrs. Sanchez, and I am your teacher. Do you see the difference?"
I look at her.
"I think I do. You seem friendly with my parents. If you come over for supper at my place, which are you?"
She laughs. "You really are bright, aren't you? Wow. Julie, you impress me. There are these researchers, Edelstein and Keller, who made a conformism scale. You know, it doesn't matter. What's important is that's why you stand out, Julie. You're not like the others who just follow directions because someone told them to. You think through them. That's what real dancers, and real leaders, do. They master the intricate details of the rules so they can rise above them."
"Really?' I say, excited. Something else where I am more mature than other kids my age? Wow. I often feel I need to play catch-up with them.
It's like she read my mind. "It's like your delayed puberty made you pay more attention to the world about you."
Right, she read my file and spoke to my parent and Ellie and other teachers who know about my condition.
"Could be."
"Ok, let's make a rule. If you see me nude in an appropriate place, I am Gabriella. If I am wearing clothes, I am Mrs. Sanchez. Is that clear?"
"And if you are nude in an inappropriate place?"
She laughs. "Always digging. That means you caught me changing somewhere textile, and you shouldn't be there," she says, lightly touching my nose with her index finger, laughing.
I am a little stunned by the sudden affection, but she gets back, raises her arms, and twists, looking at herself in the mirror.
"They say nothing is more liberating than dancing like nobody is looking; well, I say dancing nude is even better! Did you like practicing without that leotard on?"
Shit, now I know. It had been 2 additional weeks, like I thought. I had to write this to place the schedule in my mind.
I might be 8 years removed from that evening; I still get emotional whiplash thinking about it.
Because whether I like it or not, something changed in my life forever.
First, it's when Mrs. Sanchez became Gabriella. She became more than a teacher, a dance coach, and a mentor. She became, in a way, a friend. An adult friend, but a friend nonetheless.
Second, it's when I realized that, yeah, I could be a naturist, even if I was still fat. I vowed to retake what I had lost.
But it's also when I realized that dancing, for me, was no longer just about losing weight. It was a way to express myself. A way to be myself.
I practiced with Gabriella for about an hour, and I'll be honest. It was nothing like in the dance room at my school.
She wasn't my teacher; she was my dance partner, just like Emma, Lindsey, and Grace were dance partners.
Sure, Gabriella proposed moves, but she wanted me to feel the dance. To improvise, to create, and she found my insights brilliant.
After a particular routine I whipped up, she stopped, grabbed both of my hands, and spoke to me. Not as a teacher, but as an adult talking to an adult.
"That, Julie, is your chorus. It's brilliant, it's imaginative, and it speaks volumes. Now, all you need to do is add your story with Mr. Cook, but remember. You will need to write a song in words. Do you know what I mean?"
I think hard. "I need verses telling the story, with a chorus repeating a motif."
She let go of my hands to applaud. "Exactly."
We added a few difficult moves to my chorus routine that I couldn't quite do fully. I fell twice. Once, Gabriella caught me, but the second time, I didn't really hurt myself. I just lost balance and tipped slowly over.
Both times, she made sure I was okay. I felt her breasts on my shoulder when she caught me, but that's just my immaturity. She did what she could to save me.
Soon enough, it was 8:00 PM, and we decided to make it to the pool, where my parents would probably be.
I did a detour to grab my towel, and when I joined the pool, I noticed that Gabriella was with my parents but also Carmen, her husband, Ellie, and Richard in the water, talking.
I smiled. I was gaining a new friend, but visibly, my parents were too.
Suddenly, I heard my name.
"Julie? Why didn't you tell me you would come?" says Marge, nude, looking at my fat nude body, on the verge of exploding.