When I was little, it was common to hear my mom pick out the tiniest, skinniest woman in the room and longingly sigh, while gazing upon her, saying, “when I die, God is going to reward me by giving me the body of a ballerina, just like that woman.” There was nothing innately wrong with her wish. My mom really admired ballerina-style bodies. This was the 90’s, afterall. You know the type… under-nourished, sickly thin, Kate Moss-inspired, early 20s who you never saw eat, hyper-critical of their bodies and no more than a size 2. There was just one thing wrong with hearing my mom speak so longingly about this particular ideal… this was the opposite of me. I was 5’8 by 7th grade, athletic, thick, solid and identified more as a work horse than any kind of specimen who could balance my whole weight on my toes for hours. I’d study my mom as she pined for this body type; her clear demonstration of how she perceived the beauty standards of women that I clearly didn’t stack up to. She wasn’t just telling me that I was too big or that I could never be like those girls, how I heard it was that I was not my mom’s preference, that I never would be and therefore would be an outcast my whole life. None of this is my mom’s fault, mind you. So, now I’m going to tell you the real story about how I found my own power.

I went through half of my life trying to live up to an ideal that my mom had, that I had internalized, while my real power lay dormant deep within. See, I had always identified with a warrior woman. A woman one would send to war with a sword. Not just the muscles, which I had an abundance of, but it was the spirit within that captured my attention. I found resonance in the work horses of the world, the champions, the Olympians, the Gaias of the world. What’s true about me is that I could be described as “statuesque,” “powerful,” “athletic,” “explosive,” “bold,” and “resilient.” And as my life burned around me in 2015 and I have risen from the ashes, what has come with me is the true and powerful embrace of who I actually am. So, although ballerina bodies are beautiful and to be respected and admired, that just ain’t me. The longer I stalled on stayed distracted with becoming the ballerina I was never meant to be, the longer it took to fully own the raging gifts, I alone, bestowed within.

That is why I am proud to say that I am Katie Henricks and I am a fucking THOROUGHBRED.