My Experience With Shapeshifting

Joshua Levenberg

29 September 2021

My First Experience with Shapeshifting

Who am I? What am I? Why has my life changed so much?

Everyone has asked those questions before. Everyone has had a crisis of identity, confusion over where they belong in the world, whether during childhood, adolescence, or adulthood. I'm not everyone. Paradoxically, I am. My ex-boyfriend Jordan is like me. Paradoxically, he isn't. It isn't just my mind that's complicated, it's my body. Ever heard of Mystique? I'm the real-life version of her, and only Jordan knows. Don't giggle. This is true. I'm a shapeshifter from your world, not a fictional one. The difference between me and Mystique, aside from opposing ethics, is that my powers have limits and hers don't. How did I come to this point? What triggered my powers? Why do I feel the need to tell you this? Well, the funny thing is, I don't know where this power came from. All I know is my first use was subconscious.

For almost my entire life, from my high school to post-college years, I had body issues that came from my meager, unimpressive appearance. My face was puffy and melon-shaped, my arms and legs were stalky like tree branches, my hair was raggedy like a prostitute from an '80s movie, my belly was bloated, and my clothes were cheap, often second-hand from my older sisters after they've worn out of them. Not to mention, I wasn't very well endowed. So, not only was I the black sheep of my family but also the ugly duckling in every school I attended. No one wanted to date a scrawny, unassuming Chicana from the poor side of Huntington. I tried online dating, even faking social media accounts to glamorize my appearance, but my parents didn't allow that.

"Romantic relationships have to be in-your-face", they said. "Hiding behind a computer screen is nothing short of cowardice."

Their generation had a different set of values than mine. My parents didn't grow up with the Internet. They didn't grow up with email. They didn't grow up with the concept of blind dates. And thanks to their rigid mindsets, my envy over other women's bodies festered like a never satisfied monster. If plastic surgery alleviated such problems, my parents forbade it. Whether it was breast implantation or liposuction, they regarded body augmentation as unnatural.

"Embrace your inner beauty", Mama used to say. "You look perfect just the way you are."

Perfect, huh? Not compared to my ever-fortunate older sisters.

They resembled goddesses and were always salivated by boys in school. My life was shit, and it took until the last year of high school for my life to turn around. After the first day of sociology class, Jordan approached me. A man who looked almost as unassuming with acne dotting his face, shrimpy limbs, and an embarrassing hairstyle alongside a pitiful voice, approached me and asked if I would accept a date from him. "I don't care that you're not pretty compared to the rest of the campus", he remarked.

"Personally, I'm not very attractive either. So that means we're meant for each other, right?"

It took some hesitancy to answer back and I had to ask my parents if he was right for me. Eventually, I accepted.

Despite fear and worry, my first date was perfect. His eyes were positioned at me the entire time, he wasn't stuttering, and even as his teeth munched into hamburger meat and fried potato skin, he carried a conversation on his likes, dislikes, and hobbies while allowing me to provide the same. Our relationship soon blossomed. Even after I moved to a new place, we kept in touch, Jordan working at the computer store and me at a grocery just doors away. For the next four years, we shared a commonality in humor, movies, and food. Often when the mayor of Huntington promoted a community dance, Jordan prompted me to join in. We would show the whole town that love didn't need to be between attractive people. Other times, whether at his house or mine, we would embrace under the covers.