I was happier with gymnastics and archery than track and
field, but one of my friends talked me into joining the track team in high
school. Running was ‘cool,’ she said. And it was – at least until the first
time I fell. There’s nothing cool about digging bits of black cinder out of
your knees. That was the year his picture started showing up in newspapers and
on Wheaties boxes. He made winning the decathlon look easy. It didn’t even mess
up his hair. A lot of time has passed, but he’s in the news all over again. He
says he’s been living a lie all this time; that he was born in the wrong body.
I get that, I really do. In fact, so was I. The body I was meant to have is
tall and thin. It doesn’t have arthritis or uncooperative hair or skin that burns even on cloudy days.
Or feet that trip when I’m trying to be cool.
No comments:
Post a Comment