As a diminutive person, I offered no resistance. Winds whistled past my once reedy self.
I was a minimalist who left no impression. Couches neither sighed nor sent up specks of dust when I seated myself.
What little of me there was had worn thin over bean poles and bagged bones. I set my sights on things much bigger.
The transformation started by inflating my dreams, ballooning them to enormous proportions, filling them with hot air, expanding and stretching them then letting them rise, bigger than life, into the sky.
From now on, everything will be bigger, including me!
My voice, once piccolo, is now a low basso profundo.
I have altered my geometry. From a series of points, lines and angles - from sharp-edged squares and rectangles - to circles and ovals. I am now a series of smooth flowing lines, there is nothing straight or pointed. If a turn is needed, it is not done hastily. This body flows, softly, slowly, with a lazy purposefulness. It curves outward and rolls comfortably back in - all ticklish - on itself.
Convictions have followed countenance and beliefs now require cathedrals, basilicas. Churches will not do.
Hair can no longer cover the head that has expanded to hold these bulky beliefs. There is no less hair, just more head. So much that it spills down onto my shoulders: head, neck and chest are one.
And how best to transport my transformed self? Your Honda Fit; I won't. Four wheels to carry all my weight? Wait. No way. I will require six or eight.
My girth is enveloped in mirth. I'm happily wrapped in bolts of fabric. My body sprawls so does my home.
Oh, how I impress now! Beds form a memory of me and couches are cheeky behind me.
Diminutive no more.
More is me.
I'm reading this as pertaining to the inside, not the outside, despite the last picture. Beautiful progressive "picture" of someone coming into himself/herself.
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