I noticed it when I was pivoting sexily to admire myself in the mirror over my shoulder. Bear had caught me– sometimes he sort of snatches me out of the air as I go by– and we happened to be in front of a mirror, and I turned, to see the perfect snapshot of us. My big, muscular man with the sweet face, his hands on my waist, and me, sensual in my jeans and bra, halfway through a transformation.
And there it was.
A generous roll. Soft and buttery and creamy and smooth. It sat just above Bear’s hand, just above my waist.
I quickly straightened. “You look amazing, honey,” I said, using diversionary tactics.
“You look amazing.”
Hmm. Do I?
I thought suddenly of this wedding show I watched for about one minute, on an evening a couple months before our wedding when Bear and I thought it would be funny to watch some popular wedding shows. The wedding planner/stylist/ whatever that obnoxious character who’s in-the-know on reality TV is/spiritual guide was tugging the bride into her gown. She was turning her, examining her body from every angle. She was pinching her back, going, “See this? This is about an inch of back fat. This will have to go. This is not allowed to happen, right here. We do NOT like back fat! A bride does NOT have back fat. Not in a gown like this, honey.”
The bride was nodding apologetically.
“We need to lose ten pounds before the wedding,” her trainer/ slave driver/ life coach was saying.
The bride was nodding agreement.
“Good. We have a lot of work to do.”
Do I have a lot of work to do?
Where did the back fat come from? I don’t remember it. It doesn’t look familiar. But suddenly– “Hey, can you go turn the music back on?” I said. “The playlist ended.”
Bear, who does favors naturally, left the room to do that.
I turned, frantic, craning to see over my shoulder, grabbing at my own back. I was horribly contorted (to the extent that my unflexible body would allow). There’s more of it! It’s everywhere! I could pinch an inch of back fat by the squishy place where my upper arm connects with my torso. There was some around my shoulder blades. How did I not know about this? It’s like suddenly noticing the incredibly long hair on your jaw that must have been growing for, say, three years. You think, How did I let this happen? And then you run for the tweezers. But this! There aren’t any tweezers for this! It’s a chronic condition! This is going to be my life!
I started to notice it incessantly. When I sat down, I could feel the fat lap over the low back of the chair. Just a little bit, but it was lapping.
Why is my skin so loose?
The world seemed cruel. Just when the back pimples of my youth finally surrendered, and I may have stood a chance at wearing something backless and striking– this.
But there was hope. If I stood up straight, it wasn’t obvious. It was only when I moved. When I turned or leaned or sat against a low-backed chair. But what if one of those things needed to happen while I was wearing the striking backless dress of my fantasies? WHAT IF?
A few days went by. Bear did not say anything about the back fat. Had he not noticed? Or, worse, had he ALWAYS noticed? I kept reaching around to grab my fat. To see if it was really there.
But then a funny thing happened. I stopped noticing so much. After all, most of the time, I couldn’t see it. Out of sight, out of mind. My back fat stopped being my go-to obsession and felt more like a place I’d been a while ago, with kinda funky scenery, but not much to do.
The other day, Bear and I ended up in front of the mirror again– I am drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and he tends to follow me over — and I twisted automatically into my sexy mirror pose. And there it was– that plump, delicious-looking roll. There was another, smaller one above it. I caught myself just as I was about to straighten defensively. I held the pose. I am totally sexy.
When I looked away from the roll(s), I thought my butt looked great. And my thighs. And other places that I like to be full of fat. And I thought that maybe it was OK for the back fat to be there, too. It’s a small price to pay. And anyway, it’s sort of unfair to ask the fat to pick and choose, isn’t it?
“You have the best butt ever,” said Bear.
“You too!” I said. He really does.
* * *
What about you? Back fat?
Unroast: Today I love the way I look in a vest.
So these are our Sneakpeeq giveaway winners! YAY! You guys are good at luck!
Winners ($25 gift certificate) : Leslie K and Carol A
Runners Up ($10 gift certificate): Twyla, Diana, Melanie, Nancy, and Joceline
Sneakpeeq will send you your prizes soon! Thanks for participating, everyone (anyone who participated got an automatic discount off their next purchase)! I sound bubbly!
P.S. Also, I did a list of things I don’t understand about women for the Frisky. Some of you may remember how I like to do these lists occasionally.
P.P.S. My editor added some stuff, to make me funnier or perkier. Bear would NOT point out a hair on my chin. I would be shocked if he noticed.
P.P.P.S. I just found this post about back fat, by Emily over at XOJane. I continue to love her and wish she would email me back. She also compares her back fat to something delicious. So apparently I’m not that original.
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