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Dancing

I stopped dancing around the same time I decided to stop starving myself. If I was really going to kick my eating disorder, if I was really going to, in the cringe-inducing terms of the body love movement, “make friends with my body,” it probably wasn’t a good idea, I figured, to put it in a leotard and spend many hours a week in a room full of mirrors.

I know I put a post-Labor Day ban on all Blurred Lines related discussion, but there was no way I could’ve known that some sent-from-heaven (and let’s be real, probably headed back there soon) Grandpiece was going to gift the world with such a saucy exclamation point to end the conversation.

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