My face has broadened, cheeks and chin chubbier, my mass pushing out against the borders of my skin. Now I go to the North Melbourne pool every afternoon at 2. And people react to you differently. As a teenager I often refused to swim at all, even on beach holidays, even though I loved the water, because I was terrified someone would say something about the way I looked in a swimming costume. Two kids hanging by the ladder bobbed out of the way so I could climb down. And it feels perfect.
Certainly, some things are different.
Swimming, my body and fat summers
And it feels perfect. I slide into the slow lane and do forty-five minutes of soft, lazy breaststroke laps. Certainly, some things are different. I found a shady spot away from the larger groups of loud kids and lazing university students. No one seemed worried about anyone else at all.