Reaching the Crossbar

I saw your wave. I paused, then raised my arm and gave a slow wave back. The rug was fine, but I wanted a proper view. In front of me stood a heavy wooden armchair with a low crossbar. I stepped over and wrapped both arms around the solid wood. I hauled my round body upward, kicking with short feet to find traction. One foot slipped against the polished varnish. I stayed calm, repositioned my grip, and shoved upward with all my stuffing. I tumbled forward and landed squarely on the bar. Now I sit steady, looking out across the entire room.