Page 77 of The Anaconda Downstairs

Instead, stories of body positivity were trending, with more and more people sharing their own journeys of self-acceptance. It felt like we were really turning the tide. Pen's campaign was gaining momentum, and I couldn't have been prouder of her.

On the field, despite the media focusing way too much on how much Kelsey and Pen were seen at our games, the Mustangs were killing it. We'd clinched two playoff victories, the team operating like a well-oiled machine. But Hayes's absence was felt keenly. There was a Hayes-shaped hole in our offensive line that no one else could quite fill.

He was finally back at practice this week, and if he could get cleared to play for the last playoff game, it would be a game-changer. Not just for the team, but for Hayes himself. Being sidelined had eaten at him, and I honestly believed if Willa hadn't been at his side, he might not be back playing at all. That girl was good for him.

Winning the fucking bowl this year would cheer him up. I had a great feeling we were gonna do it too.

I was really grateful that KnightWear was willing to fly in a whole film crew, director, and staff to film my spot for their upcoming KnightNight ad.

I stepped onto the set, the bright lights immediately warming my skin. The studio buzzed with activity, crew members adjusting equipment, makeup artists hovering nearby, and the director, a no-nonsense woman named Samantha, studying her notes.

We'd already done the underwear part of the shoot, although this time, it was silk boxers instead of tighty-whities. But now I was back in a t-shirt and jeans, and the makeup artist touched up my face while Samantha ran through the outline of the shoot.“We want authenticity, Everett. Real stories that show why body positivity matters to you.”

I nodded, feeling confident. This was familiar territory. I'd rehearsed my answers, prepared my story. I could do this.

Once the cameras started rolling, Samantha dove right in. “So, Everett, tell us why body positivity is important to you.”

I leaned forward, channeling my media-trained charm. “Well, it's funny you should ask. When I did the first photo shoot for KnightWear's underwear campaign, I was a nervous wreck. I actually threw up twice before we even started.”

Samantha's eyebrows shot up. “Really? The great Everett Kingman, nervous?”

I chuckled, warming to my story. “Oh yeah. I had all these worries about what my body was going to look like blown up to fifty feet in Times Square, especially my butt. Crazy, right? But that's the thing. Everyone has insecurities, even professional athletes.”

The crew nodded appreciatively, and I was pleased at their responses. This was going well.

But then Samantha's expression shifted, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “That's perfect, Everett. Let's get a little bit more. I understand your mother was April De la Reine, the plus-size supermodel. How did her experiences shape your views on body positivity?”

The question hit me like a tackle I hadn't seen coming. My mouth went dry, and my carefully constructed façade went crumbling, crumbling down. “I... uh...”

Samantha must have noticed my discomfort because she leaned in, her voice softening. “It's okay, Everett. Take your time.”

I wanted to step away, to compose myself, to put my media face back on. But then I remembered Pen's campaign, the powerof vulnerability she'd been championing. Wasn't that half the point of what we were doing?

Taking a deep breath, I decided. I'd be vulnerable, raw, in a way I'd never allowed myself to be publicly before. Because this campaign mattered, more than even Pen knew.

“My mom,” I started, my voice rougher than I'd like, “she was incredible. Beautiful, inside and out. But not everyone saw that.”

I paused, gathering my thoughts. The studio was silent, everyone hanging on my words.

“When I was a kid, just eight years old,” which was the same year she died, “there was this boy at school. He... he teased me because my mom was fat.”

That little shit meant it as an ugly insult. And at the time, I didn't really understand why that was bad. But the way it was being said, even in my child-like way, I knew it was being weaponized.

“I was so angry, and we got into a fight over it on the playground. The school called my mom, and she had to come to school to get me.”

I could see my mom's face so clearly in that moment—her gentle eyes, her soft smile, the way she'd wiped away my tears. “My mom sat me down and told me something I've never forgotten. She said, 'Everett, honey, people will always try to put others in boxes, to tell you what you should be. Those boxes can hurt if you let them. But the best way to blow those boxes up like firecrackers on Independence Day, and the most important thing, is to be authentically you. That's how you find love in this world—by being true to yourself and loving yourself first.'”

My voice cracked on the last words, and I realized I had tears in my eyes. But I pushed on.

“She taught me that beauty isn't about fitting some arbitrary standard. It's about confidence, kindness, and being true to yourself. That's what body positivity means to me. It's not justabout looks. It's about embracing who you are, all of you, and knowing your worth doesn't depend on anyone else's opinion.”

As I finished, I became aware of the utter silence in the studio. Then, slowly, applause began to build. I looked up to see tears in Samantha's eyes.

“That was... incredible, Everett,” she said softly. “Thank you for sharing that with us.”

I nodded, feeling drained but oddly liberated. As the crew began to buzz with activity again, I sat back in my chair, processing what had just happened.

I'd never spoken about my mom like that publicly before. Never allowed myself to be so raw, so open. But it felt right. It felt true to what Pen and I had been working towards with our campaign.

---