Dangerous Compassions

park dance

I danced at the park for 43 minutes yesteray.  I turned my phone into a hot spot, let my computer play my favorite dance music, turned on my bluetooth headphones, and gave my body permission.  Yes, park dance!

Wow, it was amazing.  I got some sun.  Never danced with geese before.  They were pretty chill–they didn’t bother me.

At first I was shy about dancing at the park, in my favorite sports bra and grey skort.  No one else was dancing, let alone a fat woman showing her tummy.  Everyone else was mostly walking their dog, or just walking.  I felt conspicuous, in the sun.

But a few minutes in, I didn’t care how I was being perceived.  I went into something ecstatic.  Ming was going for a walk, but I couldn’t leave my stuff on the table because someone could have stolen all of it–I would not notice.

I was no longer a regular person–I was a dance creature.  What joy to lose my regular self.

modeling joy

Also, it felt kind of cool like I was a good role model, to park dance.  Maybe some walkers said, “Hey, that looks fun.  Why park walk when I can park dance?  Maybe we should do that next time!”  I like modeling joy and fat liberation.

But I think there’s something right with me (I was going to say wrong with me) that dancing feels really really really good.  Why is that?  Hmm!  Let’s ask Freud.

Freud: Probably it has to do with your mom.

me: Ok–yeah.  Probably right.


Ming was having back pain, so I rubbed his back.  Then I encouraged him to twist–I twisted with him.  That always helps my back feel better. But he said, “Ow!” and grabbed his side.

“Looks like you’re having problems with the muscles in your whole body,” I said.  “Or it could be…what do you call that stuff?”

“Broken rib!” he said.

“What?  No!” I said.

“Cartilage?” he asked.

“Uh…facsia!” I said.  “Drink some water.  Please lubricate your facsia.”

He started laughing and made a weird motion with his water bottle.

“What?  Why is that funny?”

“Lubricate my fascia?” he asked.

“Yeah!  What are we?  Second graders here?”

He was still laughing.  Well, yeah, we can be second graders.  That’s ok.


I was fat even when I was a second grader.  Wish someone had protected me.  I can’t really go back in time to protect the kid I was.  But I can get cool stickers about it.  These are by @lonjapower!

protect your fat homegirls

Also we got these ones from a night market.  That was a difficult experience, but the stickers are cool.



By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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