Recently Candy and I got to participate in Jacksonville’s One Spark which was an event where people voted for businesses to get crowd funded for new equipment. For us it was an opportunity to get our name out there showcasing our costumes and beautiful steel boned corsets. Everyday we would dress up and walk around the festival handing out business cards. On Saturday we decided to dress up as superheros and I chose classic Wonder Woman.

In case you don’t know what our awesome classic Wonder Woman costume looks like that we make at Three Muses Clothing, it is a steel boned satin corset that takes your tummy in and makes your boobs look like muffins about to pop out of the oven. Then I had the star print boy shorts, Wonderous cape, lasso,tiara, cuffs, and of course dance tights that make my legs look like they actually do squats. Now you think with this sexy as hell costume I would be on Cloud 9 of positive body image…but I wasn’t.
Part of my problem was that I actually grew up in Jacksonville. Throughout school I was constantly teased for being fat and ugly. Even after I moved back here and I did my first event for Three Muses I had someone tell me I look like a chubby Wonder Woman.  Now have in mind that it was Mardi Gras and I was not dressed as Wonder Woman what so ever. Thankfully, I had Candy there to tell me that Wonder Woman is hot and to take it as a compliment but….still.

It was about the 8th or 9th time that I adjusted my costume in front of the mirrors in the dressing room at Grease Rags that I came to the realization that while I don’t look like Wonder Woman (5’3”, overweight, and arthritic) I still had to be Wonder Woman for all the other women and girls out there who don’t look like her either. If I took the costume off or looked uncomfortable I was telling everyone that only tall and skinny woman can cosplay as Wonder Woman. Plus, in the way of sizes, I wear a size 12 which is smaller than the average of woman who shops in our shop which is a 16-18. For me to say, “I’m too fat to cosplay” is a huge slap in the face to those women who are bigger than me and are embracing their curves. Which, by the way, I hate those girls who put on a string bikini then complain about being fat. It makes me want to hit them with my meaty paw.

So with a renewed sense of confidence I adjusted my tiara and walked outside. Just like Wonder Woman, I held my head high. While my biggest battle that day wasn’t with Cheetah, I do think I beat up my toughest critic: myself.