An athletic body with muscles I could never love.

Let me add something about my dad that I can say only now that he's dead. He was fat. In my family, this fact was always diplomatically diminished with: "He's not fat, he's robust."
[...] for a long time I believed he was pregnant.

I liked him just as he was, fat or robust, whatever one wants to call it. People who talked to him about dieting irritated me - I didn't want less of him. He was soft to embrace, and there was a lot of him. I wanted him a lot, and I wanted all of him.

Most of all, I remember my dad in bed - he loved being in bed. He stayed in bed all day long; he didn't want to waste energy. You can call him lazy, but I still connect physical laziness to the kind of spiritual and intellectual wisdom my father possessed. If someone strikes me as lazy, my first reaction is to listen carefully to what he says for some possible great truth. As an adult, I like a "lazy body" look in bed. An athletic body with muscles I could never love.

In the Name of the Father; the Daughter and the Holy Spirits: Remembering Roberto Rossellini by Isabella Rossellini.