There was a time, a long time ago, I think, that I enjoyed my belly. For one, it is fun to say. Bellybellybelly. For two, it is fun to make fun of people's bellies. "There is a dime on my belly" still makes me laugh. For three, it is hard to do a belly roll without much of a belly.
But now, my belly and I aren't getting along. All of the weight I have gained has gone directly to my belly; so now, it protrudes out from the front of my body like a foreign thing. They say that when you have to bend over to see your toes, it is a bad sign. I'm at that fucking sign, folks. (Yes, it deserves an f-bomb.)
And I'm kind of sad about it because I got my belly tattooed because it was the seat of my soul. When I was meditating or praying, my hands would automatically go there and cradle the ink I designed myself. But now, I just stay away from my belly altogether because it is so freaking round and in the way. I still feel the seat of my soul is there; it is just furrowed down underneath all of the damn belly.
The last time I saw my dad, he said that he would like me to "lose a little of my middle" by the next time he saw me. That's been a year ago, and I have gone up a size in that time. That makes me feel like a loser, a failure. Even though I am taking steps NOW to get healthier, I couldn't give him what he asked me for, and that makes things difficult for me. (I DID manage to tell him that I'd like to see him with a few less beers next time I saw him, but I didn't see either of those things happening. That kind of made me feel good.)
But what can I say? I'm a fat girl, and I'm trying to get healthy. I have this tremendous belly, and I'm trying to get rid of it. It takes a long time, though; and sometimes, I think people have unrealistic expectations. I know I did / have / probably still do. So, my belly is going to disappoint people, and that disappoints me.
Damn the belly.