Trust Fall
Lovelies, hello. Here’s a little piece I wrote for a writing workshop I’m grateful to participate in because without the accountability, there would not be any words on the page. Yes, I will write Part 3 of Sex Club, however that requires an energy that’s felt far away these past few months.
[content notes: anti-fat sentiments]
“Will they catch me?” I asked, a lump forming in my throat as I looked down at the rugged man with kind eyes standing on the ground looking up at me.
Perched gingerly on a wooden platform six feet off the ground, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thumping heart. On the next inhale, I dropped my eyes to the eight people standing in two lines of four leading away from the platform.
Each of their faces turned up to look at me…smiling…inviting…willing me to trust them to catch my full body…to trust them to catch my full body weight as I fell backwards into their waiting arms…to trust them to catch my full body weight as I fell backwards into their waiting arms from above their heads.
To trust them to catch my full body when I’d never trusted another person to feel my full body’s weight.
Fat girls know they’ll never be lifted up and thrown into the air like their smaller-bodied siblings.
Fat girls know they’ll never be dipped or swung or twirled off their feet by their dance partner.
Fat girls know they’ll never be carried across a threshold in the arms of someone who loves them.
But here and now, I was being asked to close my eyes, cross my arms, and fall freely backwards into the waiting arms of eight people I’d met three days ago while the rugged man facilitated this trust-building activity.
I took another deep breath and turned my back to the waiting arms. Breathing deeply, softening my body, I felt the energetic shift that accompanies surrender.
Another deep breath, eyes closed, arms crossed, softened knees.
“Will they catch me?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied.