a few minutes into the movie i look down. leg, lots of leg. contorted, smooshed, flattened on the table. cellulite. fat. i am fully aware of it for the rest of the film. on my mind, constantly. why? i think. how? i can't worry about that now. i must find the best angle, i think. i can't let them see all this. and before i know it, this comment comes, the one i don't need to hear. loud and clear. and i wait til they leave and i run to my bed and cry into my blanket and i wonder what the fuck is wrong with me and i go to bed.