I have been entertained by the belly the last several months. I take pictures of myself every so often, just to document the progression and expansion. Different scenes, different angles, new art.
My mother takes pictures of me every month to show off when she visits relatives. (I can only presume that they are reasonably attractive.)
My in-laws are chomping at the bit to see me next week as they haven't laid eyes on the belly yet, or hands on it, either.
My one friend eyes it like it might bite her. Oh Mah Gawd, look at that thing.
Another friend waves at the belly and talks to it. Hi baby!
My sister emailed me today to say she was wondering how big I was getting these days. She hasn't seen me for several months, so I sent her a bunch of my pics.
This is one of my favorite pics of the belly so far, even though it's a month out of date already.
The cats are, of course, oblivious to the belly.
People sometimes want to feel the belly too, and I'm surprised at how little that's bothered me. Or maybe everyone seeking a belly rub thus far has been affectionate and respectful instead of attempting a surprise lunge, so I'm okay with that. Do not lunge or slap at the belly, thanks.
I saw some pictures of myself from last weekend, though, and I am not amused.
I thought I'd get away with looking "great" the whole time. That's what people keep telling me: I "look great." But this week, I've started putting on additional layers.
My reaction: Noooooooo!
My arms are getting fat, my chin is fat, my hips are yet larger, my *back* is getting plumper. Gack! I didn't even know that was possible.
I even saw a bit of video of myself, and I move like a thick waisted linebacker. Gracefully, but yes, a linebacker. Is this what Twyla Tharp wanted to document when she was expecting her own child? It certainly has its own style.
It's an adjustment. It's already been a physical adjustment; now it's an ego adjustment. Argh, argh, argh. This doesn't even look like me, not my usual self. My self image is still in shock.
But then I look again at the Tharp video. She drew upon that memory and visual documentation to inspire a new work of dance Baker's Dozen.
I'm thinking that although it's a shock to see my latest self, maybe I should embrace that. Make it like a new work of dance. A new work for unusual times. A new work for *rare* times. Because how often will this happen to me again? Not likely ever.
So, okay, Twyla, lead me on. Because this schlumpy linebacker doesn't know what to think of herself.
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