The Skinny Daily Post™

Short, daily essays on weight loss and fitness
from a really average woman who lost 100 lbs.
and works every day to keep it off.

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Friday, October 03, 2003  

Going Fetal
Because I can

I got home late last night. Threw off my coat and shoes and wandered into the TV room where hubby was sprawled over the sofa enjoying a show about the Chicago Blues scene. The dogs and cats snored in the other chairs. The only empty perch was a little corner of the couch. A tiny, triangular patch of cushion at one end.

Hubby started to rearrange himself to make room for me, but I stopped him. He looked too comfortable to be budged.

Short flashback: I have an image of my sister in our long ago college days. We were doing laundry in her dorm one Saturday morning. It was inhumanely early, like 3 p.m. We were feeling the repercussions of our choices from Friday night, and so nursed our heads with Coke and cigarettes, which seemed like good medicine at the time.

I was already chunky enough (though nowhere near as big as I would become) that I had to sit cross-legged on the cold Formica floor in that dorm basement. But my little sister, always a thinner thing, could curl up in a ball, leaning against the wall, basically sitting on her heels. She was perfectly comfortable in this position, and could rest her chin on one knee, the Coke bottle on the other.

My daughter, too, could always pull her knees up under her chin and sit comfortably in the smallest spaces. She does this when she wants to conserve body heat, or make herself small and inconspicuous. She's not unlike my cats in that way.

Last night, 100 lbs. smaller, at a healthy weight, I stepped into that little empty triangle on the couch and folded up (the yoga class I just finished helped a lot, I think) into thirds, tucking my feet beneath Himself for warmth.

And this moment gets filed under rewards, this fitting into smaller spaces and liking it. Being able to curl in, hug my knees again without distressing my tummy or cutting off circulation anywhere is a lovely thing. No extra anything in my way in front of my intestines, covering my thighbones, behind my shins. At least not enough of anything to stop me.

I felt warmer, which is good, because the weight loss has made me unable to fight off the cold. I felt safe, in my little fetal position. And I felt proud of myself, really glad I did the hard work of getting to this tiny spot.

Eventually, of course, bit by bit, I shoved hubby over to one side of the couch. I'm smaller, sure, but I'm not diminutive. And what was I supposed to do, wake one of the animals? I still wanted a Coke and a smoke. But I settled for yogurt and a big glass of water.

Here's to small spaces and curling up against the big cold world,


Fetal Position 1
Fetal Position 2
Fetal Position 3

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posted by Julie |
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