Cat Bellies

I took William to water polo practice on Tuesday night and sat in the 'parent section' outside the pool, chatting with other moms about diet and nutrition. As we glanced occasionally at our treading children, we discussed the merits of healthy fats, low carbs and exercise. Avocados became a consensus favorite food and walking the default exercise for aging knees. Though the conversation was light, the pressure existed - as always - to stay trim and eat well, suck in the gut and tighten the butt cheeks.

What relief, then, to return home and witness the greeting of our cat, who sprawled out on the welcome mat with his belly extended - a furry, white version of the red carpet. Rex gazed proudly over its rolling expanse, yawning in welcome as we shed coats and shoes and towels.  When William moved to the kitchen for a post-workout snack, Rex slowly shifted to his feet and jogged as if through molasses to his food bowl, the belly swinging casually underneath.

Rex is actually on a diet, carrying a few extra pounds despite our care with his food, and he haunts his bowl as if starving, as if his girth showed ribs instead of hiding them under a layer of cushion. His supreme indifference to standards of body size and shape provide comic relief and sharp contrast to the American person's obsession with those topics.  He licks and grooms his belly fur with pride, glorying in his rolls and exuding self-satisfaction. Time for us to do the same :-).