Fucking While Fat

“Wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.” -Toni Morrison (Song of Solomon)

 

Poly life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows – some of it can be really hard, and because this is a path we are all forging as we go along, tough issues sometimes come up. I’ve had to deal with ghosting, breadcrumbing, jealousy, STD scares, time management issues, insecurity – the one that’s the worst for me personally is that I fucking hate being fat. That feels like such an unpopular sentiment these days – there is so much talk of inclusiveness, body positivity, fat acceptance. I love seeing photo shoots with fats, I love seeing big women proud of themselves, celebrating their curves and rolls and folds and soft spots. Me? I am not quite there yet. But still, I’m out there in this dating world, where I regularly, shyly, openly share my body with new people who I’m not always 100% convinced love my folds, rolls and curves. My friend Aida* once told me “Fake it til you make it”, and for every new partner I find myself naked with, that is my mantra.

In keeping with that spirit, I will share with you a few stories of triumph and survival of fucking while fat:

• I am more burlesque than stripper in the bedroom – I feel self conscious about getting completely naked with new partners, and I find that strategically placed thigh highs, crotchless panties, camisoles, etc. help me feel like I camouflage perceived problem areas without coming across as an uptight prude. I was thrilled when Nigel introduced the idea of CFNM to me – I loved that there were men who were more than happy to get naked while their partner stayed clothed. I was there for it.

• Wearing clothes that don’t make me look like I order from 1-800-IGIVEUP: in spite of the fact I’m not in love with my body, I still like to get dressed, and I especially like to wear pieces that accentuate what I think are my best features – my waistline, and my cleavage. There are woefully few places that cater to size 16 & up without being matronly – my #1 go to is Torrid. The clothes are generally well made and affordable, and they are always having a sale (like right now!!). Fats, go to Torrid and get the whole entirety of your life. If you haven’t been lately, go back. Trust me on this.

• That time last year when I forgot I was fat. Or maybe more accurately, I forgot to feel bad about being fat. I was with Josh*, so nicknamed because he is basically identical to the character on Blackish – we’d been seeing each other for a few months, and he was always very appreciative of all aspects of me, not the least of which was my body. I realized one day after he left my house following a particularly intense fuck session, that he’d made me feel so good, so sexy, so accepted, that for those few moments I’d completely forgotten that I was fat. I was so fully present with him, none of that other stuff mattered. That was a good time.

• My partner Oskar* is a kind, handsome, fit Afro-Brazilian man. I am never unaware of our size difference – not because of anything he says or does, it’s just that incessant anti-fat internal dialogue that buzzes in my brain like the most bloodthirsty mosquito. One time, when we were about to fuck, he asked me to take off the panties I was wearing. I was kneeling on the bed, and as I slowly lifted my dress to reveal these, he said, “Oh! Wait, no. Leave them on.” and proceeded to caress and admire my ass in them for the rest of the evening, pulling them to the side when we fucked. Yes, please.

• When asked what kind of  woman I’m attracted to, I explain there are two types; butch dykes (my fave), and  a certain kind of femme. I’m not so much into the in betweeners. The way I explain what kind of femme I like best is this: a woman whose ass, when she bends over, forms the shape of a perfect upside down peach. I have seen women like this. I like them very much.

Last weekend Jones and I had a room at the Hyatt that featured a strategically placed full length mirror on the wall adjacent to the bed. I was relaxing when he came in, straight from work, sweaty and tired but ready to fuck. He stood at the edge of the bed, across from the mirror, and told me to come to him, pushing my head down onto the bed so my ass was raised high. As he fucked me from behind he pulled my hair and told me to look at us in the mirror, and there I saw it – that peach ass was on me! A big, luscious peach. It was exquisite to see his hands on me, delicious to feel the intensity with which he was getting in to me. I like this Jones very much.

• My incredible husband, who has always made me feel like I was the most perfect woman ever on this earth. Jon likes lingerie and sexy things as much as the next guy, but I believe him when he says he simply likes me braless, preferably braless in a tshirt. No bells, no whistles, just me, as I am. His appreciation of me as I am makes me appreciate myself just a little bit more.

And although this is not a video about fat issues, it is an interesting video about polyamory which touches on some issues of insecurity:

 

* you know the drill – names have been changed