It’s funny how all those naked Ruben women don’t look anything but fat anymore. Those hanging bellies scare the bejesus out of me. Bosoms are something else. I love my big pillow breasts. One of the hardest things about losing weight is deflating those giant man and baby cushions. When I look down, I see my big cloud immensities, tipped in chocolate like a present, better than a bow. When I lose more weight, those are going to turn into flat pancakes I need to shove in a bottom-padded push-up bra. But that’s okay. When I lose weight, I can find a bra that fits at Victoria’s Secret.
MaDear’s been shouting out loud to me today. Be careful what you wish for. I always wanted to be a fat old black lady in a flowered dress on a porch, feeding my grandbabies chocolate. But not too soon. And maybe not ever, now.