Sitting Nude

I recently sat nude in my grandpa Joe's rocker. It felt invigorating and shameful. He gave me the rocker 20 years ago. It is technically mine. I've sat in it more times than I could count but it still feels like his.

He told me the rocker was part of a trade he made in the 1960s to get rid of a cow and gain furniture before moving his family for a business opportunity 1000 miles away. It carries evidence of his ownership. Small repairs that aren't subtle. A board under the cushion wearing his favorite woodgrain Con-Tact paper. A square nut seated in a rough square wound in the original wood. The most important contribution he made to his rocker is the cushion he covered in leather. This cushion is where a placed my bare fat ass... even writing those words 'bare fat ass' in a paragraph in which I also mention him feels like a violation.

But why does he still hold so much weight within me 16 years after he died at the age of 89?

He was a soft spoken man. His calm, quiet demeanor was a wonderful contrast to my loud home life. He was kind -most of the time. He delivered meals on wheels and held bible study at the Federal Medical Prison near his house. He was a deacon in the Church of Christ. He was deeply loved and respected by friends and family. Saying all that, obviously he should hold weight 16 years after dying at an old age.

So maybe the question I should be asking is, why did I feel the need to sit my bare fat ass in his rocker?

Perhaps I should explain the first time I sat nude on something that I got from him. After the death of his sister Stella I helped clean out her house. One of the things in her house was an old wooden step stool. He said it was just one of the stools he made to stand on while painting signs. He had left at her house for convenience when he made repairs. I thought it looked cool and useful for a short person like myself and I asked if I could have it -he said yes. I used the stool for years to reach higher cabinets in my kitchen and used it as a bench by a window in my dining room. It was over a heating vent and my cat's fought over the opportunity to nap on it. Eventually in ended up in my painting room where I used it as a cross between a bench and a desk. I'd sit on half of it and use the other half as a desk.

In 2019 when I started experimenting with nude self-portraiture I started sitting on it without clothing. I guess it felt like less of a violation because he used it to stand on. When I sit on it nude and think about him using it I visualize him stepping on me. It feels a bit like his opportunity to punish me for being nude, for being fat, for embracing sexual deviance. His rocker is different. When I am sitting in it nude and I visualize him also sitting in the chair -we become one. His reserved moral high ground and my late in life sexual freedom are occupying the same space. I feel him there. I feel his judgement. I feel myself resist his judgement, his religion, his hatred of fat, I have flickers of feeling like I am in charge. I feel powerful. I feel like I have something to teach him.

So I guess I felt the need to sit my bare fat ass in his rocker so I could give his rocker the opportunity to hold a variety of experience. To make room for Joe's granddaughter to contribute to this story in her own way. On her own terms. My nude, fat, sexually deviant terms. Perhaps if I sit in it nude enough times it I will leave a strong enough mark for the rocker to finally feel like it is mine.