Your Daily Polyamory Blog for Navigating Life, Relationships, and More
I am secretly fat.
Going by scale weights, the BMI, etc, I am still 30 pounds overweight, but I am in fantastic shape and physically the size I was as a junior in high school. I work out regularly, enjoy being active, eat healthy food. I ran a mile the other morning. » Read more
“We should go OUT,” Legalista says, emphatically.
I smile. “Yes, of course,” I reply. I am certain she is just being polite. After all, why would someone like her want to be friends with someone like me? She’s tall, beautiful, a lawyer, has her shit together. » Read more
There was a girl I used to date during my open marriage. One day when we were eating sushi at one of my favorite restaurants, she confessed to me that she was a “chubby chaser” when it came to men. Her fiance (a heavier guy) was fine with her dating me, and she said she thought Ex-Husband (also overweight) was hot and that she’d date him as well but that it made her fiance too insecure; » Read more
Growing up, my friends were really good-looking girls, stylish, very popular with the boys. Most of them were rather sexually active because they were desirable, pursued. The hot girls.
I had acne, baby fat, and a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. I hid my curves behind thermal shirts, » Read more
Dieting has been very much a part of my psyche since I first started going to Weight Watchers meetings at 3 years old. I found the brochures exquisite, color-coded, graduating through a program whose logical progression appeased my young brain’s need for order. They were the first thing I read. While my mother made copious notes on a legal pad, » Read more
It’s been a crazy couple of years socially speaking. A year and a half ago, my husband and I opened our marriage. A few months before we came to that decision, I was the heaviest I’d been in my whole life. It was riddled with intense pain so crippling that I couldn’t walk across a room without wincing, » Read more
1.
Just about everyone else in my family is Catholic (except for a few crazy uncles we were never allowed to associate with except for at large family gatherings). Many women in my family love angels. My mother is especially fond of them. She remarked on many occasions that it was a bizarre coincidence that I was born a week after my great grandmother died. » Read more
I’m the hyper, nauseatingly precocious kid in all the snaps, wearing an evening gown at the breakfast table, correcting my mother’s grammar in a Grover t-shirt. A good Catholic girl who still idolizes her father because he works 70 hours a week and never says anything to her.
Those are the years before I understand loneliness as more than an abstraction, » Read more