Page 82 of The Anaconda Downstairs

I felt the tears streaming down my face, but I didn't mind. I didn't even wipe them way.

The suite erupted in cheers and applause. I found myself engulfed in a group hug, surrounded by the warmth and love of this incredible family I'd somehow become a part of.

“We did it,” Jules said, her voice choked with emotion. “We really did it.”

As we all turned back to the game, I couldn't stop smiling. The negativity from earlier felt like a distant memory now. We faced the hate and responded with love. We took a stand for what we believed in, and we did it together.

I looked down at the field, easily spotting Everett among his teammates. He couldn't have heard our cheers or seen thecommercial, but I felt so connected to him in that moment. We were changing the world, one ad, one song, one person at a time.

FLIPFLOP VIDEO

@SportyIsh

Voice over on footage of a plus-size woman playing various sports:

See that woman spiking the volleyball? That used to be me. The one defending the soccer goal? Also me. Hitting home runs, carving up the ski slopes, doing the butterfly at a swim meet? All me.

I loved sports growing up. The rush of competition, the teamwork, that perfectly exhausted feeling at the end of the game. But I was always the biggest one on the team. I heard the whispers, the snide remarks from other athletes, even spectators.

“She's gonna hurt herself, or someone else.”

“She's slowing the team down.”

“Ha. A fat athlete? Yeah, right.”

It got to me. Eventually, I quit. I let their words steal my fun.

Now, years later, I realize how ridiculous that was. Those people? They were the problem, not me. Their fatphobia took away something I loved, and I'm angry at them, but also at myself for letting it happen.

But guess what? I'm back. I'm playing every sport that brings me joy. Because sports don't have a size limit. They don't have a weight requirement. Do you have a body? You can play.

To anyone who's ever felt too big, too slow, too anything to play sports: You're not. Your body is an athlete's body if you're an athlete. Period.

So come join me. On the court, the field, the slopes, or in the pool. Let's reclaim our love for sports, one game at a time.

#RealBodyLove #AthletesComeinAllSizes #BackInTheGame

THE COMMERCIALS ARE THE BEST PART

EVERETT

My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Two minutes left on the clock, we were down by six, and it was fourth and two. We certainly weren't going to turn it over. The Presidents' defense had been relentless all night, but this was it. We were not going to lose this fucking game. Do or die.

I looked over at Chris in the huddle, his eyes blazing with determination. “Alright, boys,” he said, his voice steady despite the pressure. “We're running our tight end tush push, left on forty-seven. You get me that first down, Ev. Ready?”

We all nodded, breaking the huddle. As I lined up, I could hear Declan shouting encouragement from the sidelines. “You got this, boys. Let's go.”

The ball snapped, and Chris surged forward like he was going to try to rush through the line, but I hooked and he handed it off to me. The two guys behind me and Chris literally shoved my ass up and over the Presidents' linebackers. But damn, they were big sons of guns, and I wasn't going to make it. There was only one option.

I stepped on some guys back and leapt toward that thirty-yard line.

For a moment, I was airborne, the ball secure in my hands, my body stretched out over the Presidents' defensive line. A hand grabbed at my ankle, but it was too late. I crashed to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of me, but the ball was still clutched tight to my chest.

First down.

We were still in the game. The stadium erupted and hands grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. Chris was there, slapping my helmet. He yelled over the noise, “That's what I'm talking about.”

But there was no time to celebrate. The clock was still ticking.

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