Tidbits

How to Avoid Moving Your Body in P.E.

Author's Note: The prompt for this assignment was to write a 750-or-under-word story about a "habitual ritual," using second person. I struggled with the word count a bit. Apologies for any resulting awkwardness.

First, be on your period during the swimming unit the first month of school. You're a girl, so no one will question it when you sit off to the side for a week.

You haven't been swimming since you were ten. You didn't know how to hide the freshly-sprouting hairs, and when you tried to shave there was always stubble left over; you just ended up with a rash on top of the bits you couldn't remove. Your mom made you go swimming anyway and all you could do was keep your arms down and hope your swim skirt wouldn't fly up, but it always did and then you could only hope no one saw, and then later that day you started your period for the second time. You went to your mother in tears and waited by the poolside wrapped in several towels for the rest of the day. You couldn't face that again, so you decided to vehemently hate swimming. It makes you cold, tired, and hungry, and it ruins your hair. At the water park where you once played superhero-mermaids, you now sit on lawn chairs reading.

By the time you get to high school your most recent swim suit is so tight it flattens you. You bring it with you every day but for the first two weeks of P.E., the whole class sits packed together on the bleachers in the sun while waivers are signed and uniforms are ordered. In the August sun, the pool becomes more appealing, but by the time the unit actually starts it's cool outside.

You forget your swimsuit. Your parents drop it off. You're the only girl with capri-length board shorts over a one-piece. You think you might have seen blood on your underwear that morning. You sit on the bleachers reading.

Your parents will ask you about it. Tell them it was too cold and you didn't want to swim. They'll yell at you, but don't say it was your period.

(A girl will brag about getting her parents to sign an exemption, because her religion forbids her from swimming with men. Your envy will turn to schadenfreude the next day when she complains that she now has to run the track instead.)

Different sports will call for different avoidance strategies. During ballroom dancing, there will be twice as many girls as boys. Be the third wheel among a pair of friends. They'll want to dance with each other the whole time. 50% of girls are sitting on the side 50% of the time anyway. No one will notice you don't switch out.

For team sports, be on the outfield and pretend to be waiting for the ball. Pretend you know what you're supposed to be doing and what team you're on. When you get to the street hockey unit, you may be tempted to actually participate. Don't do it. You'll miss the goal and your teammates will yell at you. Ignore your teammates. Ignore the teacher who praises their efforts and calls you lazy.

Indoor basketball is easiest. When your teacher isn't looking climb the bleachers to the mezzanine and hide. Other ditchers will take refuge here as well. A few times a day, a teacher will ascend to round them up. You can avoid being seen by squeezing, prone, between the wall and the stacked-up wrestling mats.

(A boy and a girl will come running up the stairs and flop onto the mats. They won't see you. They'll start making out. This is when you should say, "Uh, hi." They'll scream, but don't worry - they won't rat you out.)

One thing you should never do is try. There's no point. The standards will rise before you can meet them. Trying just means everyone sees you huffing and puffing. Your clothes will jiggle and people will see the worn elastic on your underwear. Forget the days when you used to run down hills for the sheer thrill. Your body is different now, clunky and pimpled. Your only choice is to hate moving. If you don't move, no one will notice.