Intense feelings of embarrassment and absurdity filled my
entire body. This would not help the fact that I was
slathered in baby oil, clad in a T-shirt and lying in my
basement, in fifty pounds of plaster. I stared down at the
warm plaster that embraced my midsection and slowly crept
up towards my chest and tried to remember why I had chosen
to make a plaster cast of my entire body. For a moment, I
simply concluded that I was an utter fool, but I soon
remembered my motives, and while the plaster dried, I
certainly had the time to think about it.
The insecurities of my freshman year in college combined
with my poor body image made me feel like an oaf. Here I
was surrounded by all these lithe, long girls who wore the
latest fashions really well. Was there some mold that was
churning out these girls? And, where in the world did I
come from?
That was the beginning of the question that lead me to my
plaster ensconcement. It all began 506 years ago, when my
forebears were thrown out of Spain. They migrated to
Eastern Europe and developed the stocky, bosomy shape
consigned to overstuffed chairs. Though my tall, slender
parents seemed to have defeated this pernicious (certainly
in my eyes) shape, it continued lurking in the depths of
the family gene pool, and flung itself into existence again
with the arrival of their first-born child - me. It gifted
me with wide hips, a nonexistent waistline, powerful
shoulders, and ample breasts. Very reminiscent of a long
line of intimidating German matriarchs.
Built to survive harsh winters and to breed children, I
certainly wasn't near anything I say in fashion magazines -
or like any of my new college peers. I loathed my shape and
cursed my past. Though I was always an independent person
who disregarded the edicts of popularity and fashion, I
could not ignore our culture's concepts of beauty. The
rancor I had for my body made my freshman year of college
really hard. Clothing seemed to be made for those generic
stick figures I sat next to in class. That was when
Dorothy, my slightly eccentric art teacher, and mentor,
originated the idea of body casting.
Consequently, on a lovely May morning, I found myself
sitting in a dank basement encased in plaster. I lost all
sensation in my legs at approximately the same time that
the plaster hardened. After an additional uncomfortable
twenty minutes, I slipped out of my plaster shell. At
first, I was rather depressed by the sight of the
powder-white and headless torso lying on an old towel. It
looked more like a sea creature stranded by the tide than a
human shape. My eyes squinted, trying not to take in the
entire picture of my shape, which was even more exaggerated
by the plaster. I thought about how I would never be
graceful or delicate, how two-piece swimsuits were
absolutely out of the question, and how I would never be
conventionally beautiful, or fashionably thin.
As I stared at the empty outer shell of myself, a great
realization hit me - I realized that I had been completely
wrong about my body image. For the past nineteen years I
had believed that my linebacker-like shape would discourage
others from noticing my additional attributes. How would
they ever see my love of science and books, my creativity,
or my offbeat sense of humor? All this time I wanted to be
fashionably svelte, but that would not make me a better
person. I recognized that confidence was much more
important to others than a dainty appearance, and that if I
had confidence, they would notice my talents.
More important, I realized that I did not actually want to
be thin and bikini-clad. I was quite content using my
powerful build to lug around sixty-pound scenery pieces,
and I liked my one-piece practical bathing suits. My
physical appearance had shaped my personality in a largely
positive way. It contributed to my dislike of conformity.
It gave me my somewhat self-deprecating sense of humor. And
it gave me that strong will that I cherish so much. The
misconception I was holding all these years, along with the
exaggerated body cast that lay there on my basement floor
was suddenly so hilarious to me. I laughed for five
straight minutes.
The body cast currently resides in Dorothy's attic, under a
large blanket. I never actually used it in any art piece; I
felt like it served its purpose. The process of body
casting had been far more important than the product.
Since that day three years ago, I have not resented my
ancestral build. I have also discovered that being
comfortable in my body has given me increased confidence
and assertiveness, something many girls, and women lack.
Perhaps they should all be given the opportunity to make
their own body casts? When the shell of the body is
separate from the person it is obvious that it is severely
lacking. Without the wisdom, sense of humor and heart it
really has no shape at all.
