My stomach hangs down. It tucks in below my jeans or hangs out if my jeans ride low. It's a part of the normal order of things. I don't give it much thought.
Today, in yoga, we lay on the floor and put our legs up on the wall. We then hoisted up our bodies, supporting out backs with our hands, to a sort of backwards shoulder stand. It felt good. I felt lithe and flexible and pleased with my participation.
And then I looked at my stomach! It was falling downwards The Other Direction towards my head and had joined my breasts into some horrid looking Dali-esque uniboob/stomach. It was a bit surreal to see just How Much of my stomach there was when it hung in this other direction.
I tried sucking it in, but there was no effect. It is a ten pound sugar bag of gelatinous fat blobbing and jiggling . Fascinating stuff to see one's body from a different angle.
I used to think it would be fun to live on the ceiling in an upside down world. The ceiling was so spacious and uncluttered. I wouldn't mind my face to hang upwords a bit more as well, but my stomach I am quite content with its comfortable nook tucked into the waist of my pants.
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