Carnaval Bodies

For the third year in a row, Katherine invited me and other friends to her apartment to watch the Carnaval Parade from her fire escape. As we sipped mimosas and snacked on pork buns and grilled chicken and tortillas, the parade passed below us on 24th Street. We watched dancers in too skimpy outfits for the chilly morning shimmy and shake their way down the street. From our post up above, we could see the jiggle of the women’s breasts as they moved to the music. Bellies were exposed, butt cheeks peeped out from bikini bottoms, and thighs abounded.

Perched on the fire escape and watching the dancers below, I wasn’t so much mesmerized by the dancers’ ability to dance but by their lack of concern about their body shapes. Some women had beautiful bodies but a large number of them had bellies that jutted and jiggled and thighs that flapped (not to mention breasts that were about to jump out of their tiny tops). But the women with the less than perfect bodies were still out in their revealing outfits with it all hanging out and having a great time performing for the hundreds of people that lined the streets.

After the parade, we watched the performers on the stage set up on Harrison Street at 17th and once again, but from closer view, I was in awe of these women and their bodies. I didn’t see one with a flat stomach and ripped abs. I didn’t see women with size 2 waists. I didn’t see one that looked like Heidi Klum or Gisele Bundchen. Instead, I saw stomachs that shook as the rest of their bodies did to the music. I saw thighs wobble as the women did kicks. I saw women with bodies that looked like mine and like so many other people in the crowd of spectators. I saw women with amazing smiles happy to be performing.

I was envious of how comfortable they appeared exposing what some people may consider their bodies’ flaws to everyone who was out at the Carnaval festivities. It didn’t matter to them that their bodies weren’t fashion magazine perfect, and I wanted to feel that way too.