Past the metal space aliens in the gym, over by the wall, the treadmills seemed the most unassuming to Crystal. You had to apparently fold yourself into the other alien-looking machines. The metal chairs and benches with shiny arms seemed to wrap down and around the skinny people. Then the skinny people moved their limbs with great concentration and got skinnier in the process.
The treadmill seemed to demand the least of Crystal. You could be any size to use it. You could also face away from everyone– another plus– until you considered that everyone would see your backside jiggle. Trying to think positively, Crystal reasoned that on the treadmill you could walk and walk but not have to go anywhere new. You could put on headphones and not have to talk to anyone. And the televisions were a lot nicer than the one Crystal had at home, if she could only figure out how to use the remote.
Another advantage Crystal was counting on was that the treadmill seemed only to demand that your feet move. She could hold herself steady and just move those feet and the legs would follow. This was a good plan because Crystal only lived in her body below her ankles and above her neck. Everything else in between was a kind of grey, numb void. Sure, there was all the fat, but even under there, it was just cold.
After three months of orientation visits with her Carson outreach worker, this would be Crystal’s first workout in the gym. Her worker understood that she would NEVER be changing or showering in the locker room with all those strangers. Her worker nodded when Crystal explained she would never fit into the aliens. And her worker hopped on the treadmill right next to her, so that they could start moving in place side by side.
The steady walking on the treadmill awakened more than Crystal had bargained for. The ankles do move the legs. The legs move the backside. All the breathing stirs the belly and kindles the heart. For Crystal, when the warmth overcame the grey cold, she was sickened with fear and grief. Their plan had been to get Crystal to join a gym to address her health and her social anxiety. There was nothing in the plan about opening the doors in her body and leaving her no place to hide in safety. A few treadmills down, some lady ran with sweat and abandon, like a little shiny horse in a race. She looked both beautiful and impossible to Crystal, stirring an emptiness so profound, Crystal just wanted to get a little something to eat to help fill it.
The Carson worker helped Crystal slow the treadmill down to a walk. There, they focused on her breathing. They’d start here. Just for ten minutes. They would talk on the way home about aliens and horses and what was warming in Crystal. They agreed that if Crystal was going to move into her body, they’d do it one room, one breath at a time.
By JAC Patrissi
