I can’t remember a time in my life that dance has not been a part of my identity. From the second I stepped into my first dance class at 2 years old, I felt this freedom and power with the ability to express myself through dance, something that was missing in my life outside of dance. But we all know that bodies don’t stay the same forever. Over the years, I’ve experienced significant changes in my body: fluctuations in weight, injuries that temporarily put me on the sidelines, and the inevitable shifts that come with time. These changes all affected the way I moved and how I felt about my body. And for a long time, I struggled to accept some of these changes, and often felt frustrated or disconnected from, in my mind, the dancer I “used to be.” But through these challenges, I’ve learned the power of gratitude. And in the spirit of giving thanks, I wanted to share a bit about this journey with you, even though being this vulnerable is a little scary for me.
Growing up I was the shortest and tiniest one in all my dance classes. I remember going to the doctor’s at 8 years old hearing them tell my mom “let her eat as much ice cream as she wants, she needs all the dairy she can get to grow.” (Enjoy the low quality picture of me in a recital around that age 😂) I was always the kid in dance who was lifted and always in the front because I was so short you would never see me if I wasn’t. For the first 12 years of my life, and the first 10 years as a dancer, this was part of my identity, and it felt good. It added pressure to always be on my A-game, but it also fueled a fire under me to work hard. So that’s what I did. I took as many classes as I could, took every correction to heart, made sure I learned choreography fast and knew it well, basically learned to be a perfectionist. And things were going great for those first 10 years of dance. And then puberty hit…
It sort of really started at 10 years old, when my chest started developing. But at 12 my breasts really grew in size, and I was very insecure about it. I was developing faster than all of my friends and fellow dancers, and I felt like now I stood out in class, but in a bad way. That wasn’t the truth, but it was definitely the story I was telling myself. Suddenly I was dreading being lifted or trying on costumes, to the point where at 14 I was so anxious about a costume not fitting right that when we were supposed to be trying them on I walked out of a class. Not my proudest moment, but thankfully that teacher fully understood what I was going through and we still keep in touch years later. At this time I was also getting stronger from all the classes I was taking, which meant I switched from being lifted to now doing the lifting. At first this made me feel more insecure, like I was then “too big” to be lifted, but over time I learned that it was actually a new sense of power in dance. Plus I was still short and pretty thin, so once everyone else in class started to go through puberty and develop too, the size of my chest felt like less of a “thing.”
At 15 I devastatingly injured both of my knees. To put it in simple terms, I was dancing so much that I was overworking the muscles, tendons and ligaments in my knee joints, and walking was painful, let alone dancing. I was sadly one of those dancers that hid this pain for as long as I possibly could, until that same teacher I mentioned before called me out because she knew I was hurting. Sitting in class was like my worst nightmare; I never missed class for anything, even if I knew it was the day before Thanksgiving and nobody would be there, I still showed up. So being forced to not dance was tough, especially since we were almost in competition season. I pushed through the last half of the year, wearing knee braces every day, icing my knees, and not just cutting back in class, but in choreography too. I felt like not only a part of me as a dancer was failing, but a part of me as a person was getting lost. Not being able to do what I had always done and loved was hard to put it lightly. And then that summer I went to physical therapy and worked so hard that instead of healing in 6 months, it only took me 3. I went into the next season feeling ready to get back to where I was before. I was excited to find that I became a much stronger dancer after PT, and felt like myself and then some. And my last 2 years competing were I think my best 2 years, so I decided to go to college for dance.
Throughout my college years my weight fluctuated a lot, and I was dealing with a lot of stress from all areas of my life. It was hard to figure out what was happening with my body, and college dance was way different than what I had been doing at my home studio, so I was processing a lot of changes all at once. I spent my first 2 years of college on a roller coaster ride of hating my body, then loving it, then not understanding it at all. And I think it all boiled down to not being able to properly take care of myself, mentally, emotionally and physically paired with the new styles of dance I was learning. And it all came to a head in my junior year.
I started feeling some intense joint pain, and at times I was in so much pain that I couldn’t move my joints at all, meaning I had to sit out of class again. This felt like the end of the world. I was scared that this would be the end of my dance career, and that I would just have chronic pain for the rest of my life. Once I started thinking more clearly and less dramatically, I looked at my lifestyle to try to figure out what was causing the pain. I started changing my diet and eventually determined that gluten was the root of the issue, so I cut it out. If you or anyone has ever made a drastic change in your diet, you know that it changes your body. I started losing a lot of weight and my joints felt like they had more space than ever before. I felt like I had more mobility and awareness of every joint, and it was kind of weird but exciting. I had to completely relearn how to move in my body, which was a wild experience. I was thriving in my college classes, and moving in ways I had never been able to before. All of my insecurities that started at 12 years old were fading away. I was grateful for my body again, and got to celebrate all of my new achievements. But once I started feeling that freedom and confidence again, Covid hit and my world, like everyone else’s, stopped.
I finished college at my childhood home, with my parents and 3 siblings right outside my bedroom door, which took a toll on me mentally and physically, causing me to start gaining weight again. In June of 2020, I moved out and couldn’t afford to be gluten free any more, so I gained even more and was feeling joint pain almost constantly. Plus, I wasn’t able to take dance classes in person anymore, and since I had graduated college my focus in dance had to shift. It was almost as if I was undoing all of the progress I had made earlier that year. I started teaching dance classes and was not dancing for myself at all. Dance became my job, and not my means of expression like it had always been. I liked the shift, but it didn’t feel great for my body. If you’ve never taught over 25 hours a week, it’s very tough physically. I was spending 4-5 hours on my feet with no breaks, and it wasn’t movement that felt fulfilling like it was in college. I was also in a very stressful work environment, so over the next 2 years I had gained almost 40lbs. I felt so embarrassed and uncomfortable about my body that if I had the opportunity to, I didn’t want to be in a dance class as a student anymore because I was afraid of standing in front of a mirror. I was doing that at work, but it was my job to watch my students, not look directly at myself. At this point I felt like I wasn’t going to perform or dance for myself ever again, for the second time.
Luckily my best friend pushed me to join a dance training program with her, so I was back to taking classes for 4 hours a week. It wasn’t nearly as much as I was doing before, but it felt good to be moving for myself. At first the movement felt challenging in a body that was heavier than I had ever been, but within a few weeks I stopped thinking so hard about that and just enjoyed moving. That was all thanks to the community I found in the program, and they taught me that it didn’t matter what my body looked like, it was more important that I put the time in to take care of myself. Once the program ended, I had all intentions of taking more classes for myself, but my work environment was getting so bad that I had to quit and even decided to take a break from dance and try something completely different, just to see if dance was something I really wanted to pursue as a career. In the time I took off, I felt myself slipping away, and my body was physically aching because I wasn’t moving. Not having dance in my life taught me a lot about myself, but I knew I needed to bring it back. That’s when I earned my personal training certification and started teaching again. I also started working out, which made me start loving my body as it was. When you start to take care of yourself, what your body looks like matters less than how it feels. And the more time I spent taking care of myself, the more I loved my body, and slowly started noticing I was losing weight. I still wasn’t taking dance classes, but it was no longer because I was afraid to and more because I couldn’t afford it or have time to.
The new teaching job I had was less stressful for a while, but a few months in I noticed my weight loss was stagnant and eventually I realized that it was because of stress, in work and in my personal life. This past summer I decided to put myself first, and stop letting stress take control of my life. I left that job, I cut out people in my personal life that were causing me stress and anxiety, and focused on taking care of me. I started working with and for people that made me feel empowered and valued, Kendall being one of them. I was still working out and I also decided to get back to eating a gluten free diet and prioritize my health. In the last month, I’ve started losing weight again, and quickly, and I’m pretty sure it’s all because for the first time in my life, I’m not living every moment in survival mode, or in fight or flight. But I also love myself more than I ever have before, and I think it’s less because I’ve lost weight and more because I’m caring for myself and putting my health first now more than ever. And now as an added plus I can afford to and have the time to take dance classes again. I took my first class in years two weeks ago, and wow things were different. My mind and body were not connected, and it sort of felt like I was dancing in a new body completely. I thought I was going to feel connected to my body like I always had, especially since I still move regularly, just not dance. Turns out I was very wrong. Even though it was a little scary and alarming at first to feel so disconnected, I also felt excited again about getting to know my body in terms of dance, for the third time. This part of my journey isn’t over, and I am going to continue to take more and more classes. I’m hoping in 2025 I can take at least one dance class a week, and eventually work towards performing again.
All of the changes I’ve experienced with my body have taught me one thing: no matter what it looks like, you only have one body. It might feel different at different stages of life, but it’s something to appreciate and celebrate at every stage. I’ve learned to be gentle with myself through the changes, and focus on what my body does for me, not what it can’t do. I’m grateful that I can get up every morning, go for a walk, take a deep breath, and move in the ways I can move. I’m grateful that I get to learn more about my body every day, and excited that this body is always changing because every shift opens a new door to learning more about myself. I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am today without this body, and I’m pretty happy with where I’m at right now.
If you or someone you know is struggling to love and accept their body, or is experiencing changes, I encourage you to write down a few things you are grateful for in terms of your body. You’d be surprised how much just a few minutes of focusing on gratitude can change your mindset. I also recognize that this is hard, takes time and is a lifelong journey. So I encourage you to be kind and gentle with yourself. If you have one good day, celebrate it. If the next day is hard, that’s okay. Tomorrow is another day to try to love and care for your body again.
The journey of navigating changes in my body—whether through weight fluctuations or injuries—has been a powerful reminder of the resilience and adaptability required in dance. These challenges have not only reshaped my physicality but also deepened my understanding of myself as a dancer and as a person. While there have been moments of frustration and doubt, each experience has offered valuable lessons in patience, self-care, and the importance of listening to my body. Ultimately, the process of embracing change, rather than resisting it, has allowed me to evolve both as a dancer and as an individual. My dance journey is far from linear, but it's that same unpredictability that makes it all the more meaningful.
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