Fat Woman Walking

“I wish I could walk like her.” A woman, about my age and hobbling with a cane, said this to her younger male companion, possibly her son or caretaker. I had never seen this pair before this day, but I greeted them as I do everyone on my walk. They nodded in my direction and moved on, to the yard sale down the street. The comment was not meant for my ears, but I’m always hyper-aware around strangers, especially in a neighborhood teetering on the edge – one reason I don’t listen to music on my outside walks. My hearing sharp, I could hear the woman’s plaintive wish, half a block away. I felt a little shamed. Here I was, bouncing around and walking fast, and… Feeling sorry for myself. I had just made the painful decision to go back on my CPAP – I could feel myself slipping into old habits: sleeping late, going to bed late, getting up late, eating as if were just coming out of a famine, and slacking off on my walks – for me, the last bastion of healthy body weight...

I am a fat woman in a thin body. I am a thin woman in a fat body. I am a fat girl in a thin body. I am a thin girl in a fat body. Fat girl, fat woman – Fat woman, thin girl – Thin girl, fat woman – Fat woman, fat girl – Fat girl, thin woman – Thin woman, fat girl – Fat girl, fat woman – Fat woman, fat girl – Fat girl, thin girl – Thin girl, fat girl – Fat girl, fat woman... Around and around I go, Not-so-merry-go-round. Fat is my truth, Consuming above all. Two tales, one body, One body, two tales. Two bodies? Thin narrates a sudden lie, Fat an epic truth, *A Tale of Two Bodies* Another truth: Fat, I am shamed; Thin, I am raw. A bared secret: I turn to fat, In a flash; I dwell in fat. I have journeyed to thin – A distant land, A short sojourn. I am a fat woman walking. I am a thin girl running.