What is in a name?

When I used to go to the gym, one of my instructors used to always say-"Do you know what this part (pointing to one of the fattier area on women) of your body is called?" People were sure to shake their heads no. She would yell "GOOD! Don't name it or it will stay!"

Clever clever clever.

The body part she pointed to would change from time to time.

But I always thought, I want to name them! I don't want them to stay. Please. I would love for them to take off, but I want them to know that I can sum them up, make them real, and then move on. From 118lbs to 200lbs I have had these same areas- perhaps smaller or flabbier than other times. Some have come to me later in life. (The more the merrier! grumble grumble) They have been there...making awkward small talk with me...sticking their tongues out at me in the dressing rooms of florescent SATAN lighting...confusing the line of an outfit.

Let's delve in!

I know what saddle bags are. I have had to become friends with them. They call on me for a cup of sugar now and then, and I on them for some butter. But what are the rolls of fat that sit above them? Above my thighs/at lower hip area? Did I create them by wearing too tight underwear? Squeezing off a portion of my body into these? I shall name them....slug pillows.

Mr. Slug says "I can't quit you, Kate!"

Now I shall address them.

*cough*

Slug pillows, you work against me in form hugging dresses and bathing suits with high-cut legs. I don't now how to get to you in the gym- you have been there when I walked miles and miles a day in NYC at my thinnest, and you are with me now. Truthfully, you have lasted longer than any lover. I can't seem to scrape you away

with my constant tugging of pants over you. I can appreciate the loyalty to mine regions, but should I ever win Powerball (and after I donate money to all the childrens of the lands) I will address you with my friend, the plastic surgeon.

I have 2 rolls on my belly. 2 complete rolls of very white, very soft flesh that join me when I am sitting. Well one joins me when I sit and one hangs about pretty often these days, even when standing. But we have been joined by a half roll.

(Ding dong-literally....Hostess)

Whoooooo is it?

OH my! WHAT the....

I am alarmed that it has come. And the other 2 rolls won't embrace this half sister. It hasn't been the greatest welcome for this half roll. But I shall name her. She is Leath. That is Gaelic for "half" and I do like to keep close to my roots (as made apparent by...slug pillows....)

And now to address Leath-

I don't know what hand to take with you. One that demands you go away as you are not truly welcome nor expected in my life right now? Or encouraging? Why do you not come out in full force like your sisters? Why only half? Shine on if ye be from too many handfuls of cashews or one too many beers on a weekend night. Complete your journey along the line of my brassiere! (because when you do, I am tucking you up into said brassiere so I can have more oomph).

Feel free to name your parts. Post them here, even! Strip and whisper them to yourself. Name them, throw down the gauntlet if you think a true battle can be waged, but most importantly- don't let them define you! and move on.