Special

I am really into my body right now.

I mutter this glowing self-affirmation to myself as I stand facing the ocean in Viña del Mar, Chile. I look down at my body as another wave crashes around me and numbs my ankles against the cold. A few days earlier, I had fallen asleep on the beach in a very conservative, appropriate pose: one arm lay stretched above me and my nose wiggled itself into the crevice of my armpit as my other hand rested wide on the center of my stomach. I think I was even spread-eagling because fuck patriarchal expectations of lady-likeness, right? I was so comfortable I slept for three hours. When I awoke, my whole body was drenched the color of cherry juice- the inevitable sunburn.

Now, as I stand facing the infinite aqua, I admire my sunburn. On my sides, there is a deep line that looks like strawberry cheesecake (cream meeting pink). My favorite part is my stomach because while it is also red, there is a large circle of glaring paleness around my belly button where my hand had rested. I look kind of like a reverse bullseye, and I am totally rocking it.

I also haven’t shaven anything on my body since I arrived in Bolivia back in August (next week I hope to host a video webinar that will revolutionarily demonstrate how to use a curling iron on one’s perfectly untouched armpit hair). I have gained so much confidence from my hairiness! Soft furry legs, the erosion of any sort of bikini ‘line’, the startling discovery that at a certain length my armpit hair turns from a deep brown to a highlighted shade of blonde. My body is sexy in the sort of mismatched, imperfect trend that seems to be haunting all the fashion magazines these days.

While I love all of these parts of my body, my favorite part is my cuñapudge. Let me explain. Bolivia has graced the world with the delightful ‘cuñape’, which is a pancito made from yucca flour and cheese. They just make me so happy, and I continue to revere in this most indulgent gluttony. My consumption of cuñapes has led to many smiles and eventually, my pudge.

So here I am: pudgy, hairy, sunburned and delighted.

~

Add one more thing to that list: stained by cheap red wine.

My friend Rosa and I stand outside the liquor store just minutes before midnight on New Year’s Eve holding a box of wine. I had tried to order a bottle of delicious red but we somehow ended up with this box of bitter grape juice. I had just chugged some out of the too-big corner hole and was now dripping wine everywhere. We stroll back to our hostel to look for the group heading to the beach to watch the fireworks. I nuzzle the box close, getting intimate for these last few moments of 2014. My friend stops me and just looks down at my feet. At first, I pretend to feign sweet innocence:

“What?”

She just knowingly replies, “Aly, you really should take off your socks.”

I look down at my socks and Chacos and muster, “But I think this look really works on me.”

Rosa gives me her classic stare. I try to do that thing where I fake giggle and open my mouth really big in my fondest attempt at endearment. She stares back. My mouth opens a little bigger…

She just stares knowingly. God, fine. As we hike the stairs to our apartment, I slip off the socks and throw them in my bedroom. I caress my box of wine, as I know that it would never judge me. I catch a quick look at myself in the mirror, flirting a quick hair flip just for kicks and giggles. We head back down the stairs to catch up with our new friends heading to the beach. As we walk along the streets of Valparaiso, thousands of people flood the calles, people sell cans of beer out of backpacks and there is an energy I have never felt before. I walk down the streets confidently. This was the first time I had done my hair or worn make-up in weeks, and I was waiting for all the beautiful men to flock to me as we reached the shore (I mean, I was wearing mascara for god’s sake). We take our place along the streets just as the fireworks begin to burst.

Everyone around me begins to kiss and hug each other. The group of friends Rosa and I are staying with had been studying abroad in Chile together all semester. So, as I stand with a feeling somewhere in between the collective heart of their welcome and my innate outsideness, I am reminded of a moment earlier that day. I had been sitting on the roof of the apartment. The roof is a special place; it fumbles its magic from the blushed stains of colorful houses and the belted sea. I feel that this roof is special, but I also know that this specialness is not mine. The specialness is that group of friends and all those whispered conversations between confidants and fast-spent months of sunbathed quirks. I think that’s the beauty of specialness though- it can be lent out to those in need of it. Magic specialness always murmurs itself beyond the tyranny of being permanently owned. I was let into this specialness for just a second, and so I began to memorize it. An orange house plants itself in the top left of my vision. The ocean stretches across it all. Two industrial skyscrapers hunt the middle space. My eyes hang there. Don’t you ever wish you erase a skyline and then draw it for yourself? I would take a big rubber eraser to that skyline and edge away the industry. I think it’d be nice to let the ocean win for once.

I am reminded of this moment during my first seconds of 2015 because I am again borrowing the specialness welling up in the hugs and kisses around me. I stand in a land unknown, but I think that’s okay. I clutch my box of wine tight, waiting for someone to flock to me….

A lady sprays silly string in my eye and the fumes leave me hacking like an undone puppet. So everyone kisses while I hack and try to blink out this chemical shit in my eye. 

I think my pupil is gone.

(Side note: Just so you don’t worry too much about me, I did receive a New Year’s kiss a few minutes later. Two in fact. I told you, my body is really sexy right now.)