There is a specific body type I associate with CrossFit. All muscle, abs, zero fat, that V-cut thing that can happen to your groin area. I don't look like that. I have a belly and an ass that stick out no matter how I stand or what I wear — not to mention, I require three sports bras for even the most low-impact exercise.Let's be real. CrossFit is intimidating. It’s a bunch of confident people with the most jacked leg muscles you've ever seen lifting heavy shit very rapidly — yeah, I'm not trying to be the rookie in that group. If you're not athletic or in shape, or don't see your size represented in that community, why would you put yourself through that kind of program?That was my attitude until I saw something on Facebook that piqued my interest: CrossFit FiDi was looking for women to sign up for a six-week challenge dedicated to becoming stronger. The program was designed for beginners, non-athletes, and post-injury former athletes, and the site maintained a no-judgment vibe throughout the callout : "This is not a Biggest Loser-type challenge. Not everybody will be coming in with the goal of weight loss. All transformations are welcome."The program consisted of Monday, Wednesday, and Friday workouts with a group. Part of me wanted to give it a shot — but every possible kind of workout anxiety struck me as I tried to process how a plus-size body would navigate the CrossFit space. Even more than that, I was afraid my eating disorder would be triggered by the experience.I spent ages 12 through 24 as an on-again, off-again, mainly on-again bulimic with rampant body dysmorphia, and I've worked very hard to keep that unhealthy part of my life behind me. It's a constant battle to have a healthy exercise routine without falling back into that habit — particularly because a common motif around gym advertising is the need to work toward a smaller body, or a bikini body, or a "new year, new you" body. Basically, a body I've only mildly achieved through bulimia. With all of this in mind, and fully armed with every body-positive comeback in my arsenal, I decided to sign up.Most people who sign up for CrossFit likely do it to challenge themselves physically. My goal was all mental. I had to prove to myself that I could handle being in that environment as a representative of plus-size athleticism — as well as be able to accurately articulate the myths around any body-negative comments that might be thrown my way (spoiler: none were).Here’s what a CrossFit class is like: Each session, we do the workout of the day (WOD) — a training broken up by minute and typically in the 20-to-45-minute time range. It's intense, despite how short each routine is clocked, and you will feel it the moment you're finished, if not before.Before the workout, your trainer makes sure the group knows how to do the move safely and with good form — and if you can't do the move, there is always a way to scale back or modify the workout to what fits your abilities best. For example: While I cannot do a high box jump , I can do step-ups . I'm really good at kipping my knees to my chest , but you could do a dead hang instead. My size actually worked to my advantage when trying wall balls back squats , and snatches (an actual term) because I was able to carry more weight.