I love hugs.

They are a goodness.

I don’t know how not-fat people feel about fat hugs, but I know I love fat hugs.

They envelop you with warmth and softness, but there is an inner strength there too.

Like hugging a well padded tree.

I am still struggling with learning to ask if hugs are okay.

I totally understand and respect why you should ask first.

Not everyone is comfortable with hugs.

You would think that I would be really good at this because I haven’t always been a hugger.

For the first 25 years or so of my life I was not a hugger.

I was, in fact, an anti-hugger.

When I moved to LA, though, I reconnected with a friend from my high school days – Mark Addy.

Mark and I did not go to high school together, but I met him when I went to Caseville Summer Enrichment Program one summer long ago.

Not only was Mark Addy living in LA not far from where I was, but one of his roommates was a guy I did the Chicago Abyss (part of the Bradbury triology play) with at Delta College (aka Tri-High!)

You’d think I’d have been shocked at this coincidence, but nah.

LA is like that.

Anyhow, Mark was always this amazingly talented and loving person with the most insane laugh; and inhibitions were seemingly no longer part of Mark’s persona in LA.

And Mark was all about the hugs.

He would hug me and refuse to let go until I hugged him back.

It was a battle of wills between us.

And y’all should know how fucking stubborn I can be.

But how can you possibly fight against the pure and unconditional love that Mark was offering?

He taught me that hugs are a goodness.

They are soothing.

They are calming.

They are healing.

They are all about sharing love.

Mark was back in my life for a few years, and then he moved away and we lost track of each other again.  He passed away sometime in the 1990s.

The world is a sadder place without him.

But, if nothing else, he taught this fat old lady how to hug and that hugs are a goodness.

Thank you Mark wherever you are.