On being Fat

Hmm.

This is going to be a hard one to write right now. I started this one when I was in DC on business. Sitting in my hotel room, kind of drunk, having just come back from a night out wherein I got hit on by a large number of short semi-asian men. A LARGE number. Of short, skinny men.

It was doing things to my sense of self. Bad things. I looked in the mirror and saw a circus freak. I felt huge. And not attractive. Which is a funny reaction to getting hit on by a bunch of men.

But the one thing these guys all had in common was an assumption that I was desperate. They hit on me almost lazily, assured that I'd be flattered. Now, I am generally flattered when someone hits on me. Not every time. I mean, leaning out your car window and asking "how much" isn't going to be flattering to me. Being really drunk and coming up behind me while we're dancing, trying to grind your cock against my ass... also not flattering. But in general, if a guy takes the time and makes the effort to come up and talk to me with the intention, stated or not, of trying to get in my pants, there's an element of flattery there.

But this night... this night felt different. It may very well have been my mindset that lent such a unsavory cast to it. But I don't think that was all there was to it. A disproportionate number of wealthy, entitled, short assholes who wouldn't have given me the time of day in a business setting were coming up to me in a bar full of their ilk, offering to buy me a drink, and staring at my tits. There was no tentativeness to it, there was no sense of adventurous reaching for the stars and hoping to get laid. There was a sense of business transaction, though. I don't know how else to explain it. Not exactly pity hitting on (Pity fucking is such a funny term, since it doesn't actually have anything to do with pity when it comes to guys. It has a lot more to do with "Had to put bag over her head and not look down at her body. Doesn't matter, got laid."), but condescending. That's a good word for it.

Good lord. This is making me sound vain. "Boohoo! These guys didn't act like I was doing them a favor by letting them look at me! WAAAAA!!" Yeah. That's not really me. But I am used to a certain amount of respect and wariness when it comes to being approached. I am NOT used to a sense of expectation that of course I'll say yes because there's no way I could do better.

And that, right there, is what got me to thinking about feeling, and being, fat.

I'm about a size 18. Sometimes a 16, sometimes a 20, depending on multiple variables (including, but not limited to, bacon, PMS, amount of sex had in a week, dancing, and cookies). I'm 5'10, with breasts the size and shape of... I was going to say watermelons, but that's a TERRIBLE mental image that I don't ever want to think of again. We'll go with cantaloupes, for that traditional vibe I like to foster. I carry myself relatively well. Sitting in front of a computer all day doesn't foster good posture, but when I'm out and about I've forced myself to learn to thrust my boobs out, pull my belly in, and let the rear add counterbalance. It makes me more physically comfortable, and helps to hide the fact that my belly is all rotund and shit. I weigh over 200lbs. How much over is none of your god damn business. Suffice it to say, I have dense muscles. Big legs, tight skirt... John Lee Hooker would have fucking salivated over me. But I'm far from everyones cup of tea. A fact that I've had thrown in my face quite often, mostly by jocks or young businessmen (old businessmen love me. I'm thinking it's because I'm "plush", and they recognize the value of a comfortable seat). I'm generally ok with that. Mostly because they walk around with mummified Chihuahuas dressed in ugly clothes and stinking of desperation and Elizabeth Arden on their arms, chests puffed, thinking they've accomplished something other than a life of meaningless drudgery and empty, unsatisfying sex with someone who hates them by stealing this girl from under the arm of their best guy pal. I can honestly say I am ok to not be their cup of tea.

But I'm very used to being quite a few peoples cup of tea. Big boobs, long hair, and a tendency to wear short skirts and fishnets added an oh so superficial sense of attractiveness to my egocentric world view.

As I gain and lose weight, though, and with my new haircut that doesn't appeal to the Neanderthal, I've been forced to analyze that. Sometimes forced to analyze that alone in a hotel room after too much whiskey and having had to fend off the overzealous attention of angry foreign assholes who couldn't understand why I wasn't THRILLED with their cocksure attention, positively flattered that they deigned to offer me some hot hot lovin. 'Because what else could a woman like me expect? What? I'm waiting for something better?? Pfft. Bitch, please.

It made me think about what it's like to be fat in this world. I don't often think of myself that way. Well, that's a lie. I DO often apply that label to myself. But rarely in a truly negative way. In my world view, if I'm healthy enough to have crazy, hanging from the ceiling sex after dancing the night away, I'm not too fat. Doesn't matter what my jiggly belly and thighs might say. I feel healthy and attractive. I dislike my lovehandles, but only because I hate the way they break up my silhouette in a nice shirt. I dislike my pasty white, jiggly belly, but only because it interferes with my perception of self as a warrior queen. Warrior queens do NOT have pasty white jiggly bellies. My chin... don't get me started on my chin. I hate my fucking weak, non-warrior queen chin. But I hate it when I'm skinny just as much as I hate it when I'm fat.

But when it comes to dealing with other peoples perceptions... that's where things get difficult. It's hard to be outside the norm in this world. Ironically enough, being fat is no longer outside the norm. But it's outside the ideal, and that's still fucking hard. I've been outside the norm for so long that I've gotten used to it. But it was a specific type of norm, and I had my defenses built specifically to deal with it. This, this is a new kind of being outside the norm. And it sucks. Shields are at 20% and dropping, Captain. I look the same as I did a year ago. But I don't feel the same. And I don't feel the same because I'm letting people get to me, to influence my perception of self, based on nothing more than feeling fat.

Feeling fat means a lot of things. It means you feel unattractive. It means you feel unworthy of love. It means you feel unworthy of respect. It means you feel like a freak, and not in the good way. It means you have to try really hard to not hate yourself. It means you feel constant jealousy of those who are skinnier than you. It means you second guess your decisions about food constantly. It means you hate looking in a mirror or getting your picture taken. It means you are unwilling to be seen in anything that isn't flattering. It means you look at people who are heavier than you and despise them a little. You hate yourself for doing it, but you feel better about yourself anyways.

What most people don't realize, or acknowledge at least, is that feeling fat isn't about being fat. You can feel all those things and be a size 6. Fuck, I KNOW people who feel all those things and more, who went from a healthy, pretty size 16 to a admittedly still hot but too skinny size 6. And all they can think about is how fat they still are. And how much they still have to lose. Man, that makes me sad.

Anyways, feeling fat isn't just about being fat. And because of that, it's incredibly insidious. It's really fucking hard to get over. And getting over it is not encouraged in this world. In this world, if you don't want to feel fat? DON'T BE FAT, WHORE! Yeah. There's not much sympathy in this world for feeling fat. At least not in my experience. And I hate that. I hate it because it's so rarely about being healthy as opposed to looking good and fitting in. It's so rarely about what YOU want as opposed to what you think THEY want.

In my experience, the type of guy who is going to make me feel bad about my appearance is not the type of guy I'm going to get any sort of good booty from. I think of one guy in particular, who I could tell was not turned on by my body but was fucking me anyways (this was VERY early in my journey, and I hadn't yet learned to recognize the signs of Just looking to get laid guy. I was still in the They're hitting on me so they MUST be attracted to me stage. So naive...). And by god was he a terrible lover. Could go for hours, had a huge dick, and hips like jackhammers. But was incredibly self absorbed, boring, and completely non-sensual. He never even tried to make me come, and it felt like he was reading a manual on fucking half the time, brow furrowed in concentration. Someone who is willing to overlook what they consider to be your imperfections just because they need to get laid... blech. Boring. Unimaginative, unsensual, and more than a little pathetic.

But the way you feel about yourself when you feel fat, the way you're encouraged to look at yourself... it makes encounters like that acceptable. Because really, what more do you deserve? What more do you have the right to expect?

I've been lucky. I've never been that desperate, to accept attention from people who obviously don't respect me (well, once I figured out what it looked like). But that's only because I have this fucking insanely strong groundwork built from YEARS of feeling like a circus freak. I can't imagine what this would be like if I was used to feeling normal. God.

So, to all my plush, gorgeous, rounded, jiggly, comfortable male and female friends out there? Stay strong. Don't let the shallow bastards get you down. Get healthy, feel loved, and accept who you are. I've seen most of you naked (or wished I had), been turned on by your sensuality and intense pleasure in life, and thoroughly enjoyed stroking your flesh(or enjoyed the thought). ;)