“His belly,” the man began to write ” was the size of a small beach ball.”     That was a bit of an exaggeration.  Not a beach ball, surely.  How could I even put that statement to paper?  It is so embarrassing.

 

Not a beach ball at all.

Fine, not a beach ball.   But now what?  What shall I compare my belly too?  He tilted his laptop computer away to rest upon his right thigh.  He was assessing the situation.   It was difficult to describe because not a single analogous item popped into his head.  His belly was more like a student design project  in which the task was to combine two or more disparate objects into a new and seamless design.  A pillow – ball then?   A pig-rump pillow? ( The tail could be where the belly button is!) Something part turkey breast and part – he stopped at this point and looked again at his belly, this time pulling up his tee-shirt so as to better size it up – part  – what was it?

Whatever it was  was just behind the thin curtain of his consciousness.  He just couldn’t quite see through the veil to identify it clearly.  so he tried to cope by coming up with shallow, almost glib suggestions.  Mom’s bread dough, maybe?   Milky jello mound thing? Getting closer, maybe.

Silage wrap wrapped  beach ball?

This wasn’t going anywhere.

Maybe if he described what the belly felt like.

My belly is smooth and relatively flat on top. It is almost hairless and  has  a nice  eye-shaped insy button.   If my belt is too tight it cuts into my belly and it feels like the skin is burning.  My belly has a mole, above and to the right of it if you were to look at it whilst facing me.   When it is cold out side in the winter, and I have been  out for a while,  the skin on my belly is red and  the thick fat layer is quite cold to the touch.   When it is like this I have a real appreciation for the insulating qualities of fat.  In the winter I am glad to have a belly.

In the winter,

when there is no sun

and I

have ventured into the woods to see the

rare unmineable diamonds of ice that

cannot be forced into the open

but have to be coaxed with curiosity

and also to  view the –

( wait)

burdened branches with their  ,

pregnant, expectant,

Bellies of snow.

 

 

I knew I could do it.