the divinity of curvy bodies

Oh, it’s undeniable. Oh, it’s divine. Have you ever noticed it? The way an abdomen softens like a stream into a creekbed. Have you ever noticed rounded shoulders? I have. Soft hills that blend into the valley that crashes between the collarbones. Did you know that Rome was built on hills? 
I can see it now. A Parthenon balanced on the clavicle. Human anatomy, so precise and yet it could never capture the wonder that is the way an arm can blend into the shape of a body as skin spreads when pressed to the chest. Rounded shoulders that make the valley of the neck are the waterfalls that turn into rapids at the elbow only lead to fingertip estuaries. 
Soft faces, warm chins, plump cheeks and plump apples that emulate the stars and sate the hunger of the moon.
Oh, the creekbed of the abdomen into tummies soft t and the rings of Saturn surround the hips as sweet flesh and fat. Oh, the tapered harmony that belts an aria only protected by cellulite of the legs, as dimpled flesh trickles downward to pool at the knee. The knee is a dam and the flesh turns smooth as the calves introduce the tricky ankles— tricky indeed for they appear to be the most delicate part of the body and yet they reveal the bipedal beauty of a woman who stands barefoot in grass.
The sweet hymns of her legs plant her firmly to the ground and she is perfection, she is divine. She stands in the shape of life, she is breathtaking, she is a solitary ace and is the beginning of all things. 
And when the curvy body was born, when Eve rose from blood and guts and when she shed blood and guts, her body was round and it was celestial and it was Earth. It was divine, it was fat.
Thunder struck Earth in droves and the sound throttled the world into submission and the sound itself echoed as if God stood up from his great big chair while Creation was seated at the table, for God knew he had reached perfection with the plump physique and He should like to take pride in His invention.
He looked and could barely believe the anadiplosis polysyndeton He’d managed in one body, a body that was magnificence and a magnificence that was flesh and fat and bones and a trillion lonely daisies held together by twine. 
And so when night struck and the thunder ceased, the creatures of Earth would never again feel that moment of weightlessness where their senses were fooled to think all that bound them to this earth was a lie and their eyes told them not to blink for if they dared to blink, they’d be blinded and never again behold the indulgent, generous femininity that in one moment ceased to exist and in the next simply was and forever would be under God’s kind will. 
These creatures learned the meaning of prayer as this moment ceased to exist, and yet it is no longer the time of Eden and night still befalls a world that fears night because it does not know how thunderstruck it could be be at any given moment when one beholds the beauty and wonder of cellulite and stretch marks and overflowing flesh.
And now people fear the night and they fear flesh and they fear those treacherous things of the night and they fear fat and they pray for the light of day, only to find the light of lightning’s generosity and the sanctity of curvy bodies and the will of God for it’s all we’re subject to and it’s something we should not escape for our own good. The most treacherous things happen in the nighttime, don’t they? Don’t fear the nighttime.
God whispered in their ears, you know. For the sanctity of curvy bodies is that they know something no one else knows.