The One Question a Dancer Asked That Broke My Heart

One of our dance trainees came in for a session. After months of working virtually, it was incredible to see her in person - watching the work land in her body, the integration, the strength, the alignment.

She's very fit. Long, muscular legs - the kind dancers spend years building. Legs that carry, support, and power every movement. During the entire session, I kept thinking, "Her legs are amazing."

After we wrapped, she asked how to make them leaner.

I paused. Gave her some ideas because I wanted to help, but inside, I was stumped. Why would she need to change anything? They were strong, powerful, beautiful. Women would kill to have her legs.

Then it hit me: I used to do the exact same thing. For years, I was harshly critical of my own body, especially the strongest parts. I nitpicked everything, zoomed in on what was "too much" or "not enough." Never satisfied.

Why do we do this? Why are we so quick to judge the strongest, most supportive parts of ourselves?

Most of us don't see our bodies clearly. We see flaws. Miss our strength. Overlook progress. Judge ourselves with a harshness we'd never direct at anyone else.

What I've learned both for myself and working with women every day is that your body isn't the problem. How you see it is.

That's honestly what Pilates has given me more than anything. Yes, it makes you stronger and more aligned. But more importantly, it changes your relationship with your body. You start noticing power instead of imperfections. You inhabit your strength rather than shrink it.

And when that shift happens, everything gets easier. Movement feels better. Confidence rises. You stop chasing "leaner" and start craving "stronger."

If I could go back to that moment with her, here's what I'd say:

"Your legs aren't something to fix. They're something to thank. They're carrying you through demanding training, giving you power, supporting everything you love. You don't need smaller legs. You need a kinder lens."

I'm still learning that lesson myself. But I'm getting there.