A Fat Woman Does Yoga with Great Joy

My muscles ache with use and I am tender.
Fragile.
Free.
I quake through fat thighs,
and feel the earth rising through me.

I am not a beautiful animal,
but functional, and vibrating with life.
I can do things.
Watch me lift my big body up stairways.
Watch me walk with tiny toe taps,
soft and silent as kitten paws.
Watch me shimmy my hips into mirror frames
too narrow to hold them.

Watch me raise my giant arms to the heavens
and give thanks for myself.
Thanks for this big fat beautiful body.
Watch me fold my folds forward,
and drop my head to the ground and kiss it,
And bless it for never refusing to hold me,
Like airplane seats and designer jeans.

Watch me lay the breadth and width of me,
splayed like a fat starfish,
over the corners of a foam mat.
With a belly, soft to cushion the spine,
spilling out all over the place
in gladness.

More body means more to touch the earth with,
more ass to connect to the ground,
more cheeks to swell with joy,
more breasts to lift to god and say
I am tender, fragile, and free.