(The hat reads ‘My best friend vibrates’…and really, doesn’t everyone’s?)
All kidding aside, I want to talk about a personal issue that has dominated a good portion of my fat acceptance and body love journey: what happens to a fat body when it’s sitting down.
I don’t know how to conduct myself when sitting in a free-form chair. Being a deathfatty (usually the only one present) my body is different, and it’s super noticeable, especially when I’m sitting in a seat without a table in front of me. When I have a table, it’s like a prop. I can lean on it, slap it for emphasis, and even pretend to hulk-out and flip it and all of its contents. Without the safety of the table, my body is out in the open for the scrutiny of all. What do I do with my hands? Should I bother crossing my ankles even though doing so will cause me to be incredibly uncomfortable? Should I sit straight up, or is it okay to slump back against the chair and rest my hands on my stomach? What if I need to take notes? It’s always an incredibly awkward situation (moreso if I happen to be wearing a dress, and most of all when I ‘forgot’ to wear underwear, which is
basically every day) and I leave feeling uncomfortable.
All of these things have led me to have somewhat of a bad relationship with my seated body. Sitting changes the fat body. The stomach and thighs are visibly impacted. Personally, sitting elevates my cleavage to chin level and showcases every bit of adipose tissue that I possess.
It’s taken me a long time to fall in love with my seated fat body, but I’ve come to adore every dimple and curve that I possess. I’ve stopped agonizing over the way my skin folds and my abnormally oblong belly button. When I laugh, my belly shakes and rumbles. My stretch marks and scars make me feel like a warrior princess.
I still don’t know how the fuck to conduct myself in a standalone chair, though. I’ll probably just say ‘fuck it’ and have a fat-ass dance party.
Jerry gets it.