"Need to eat your fat c*nt ;)"
He wrote me.
And I felt the tears well up. You see, I like this man a tremendous amount. He's funny, he's smart, he has a wicked wit and a rapier tongue. He had sex with me last week in a way I had honestly never experienced. It felt honest, it felt right, it felt tangible in a way I don't recall sex feeling before.
So I let him stay the night.
Now, I know I am not a small girl. Gone are the halcyon beauty queen days when my jeans were a size six and I felt like I could conquer any penis bearing person on planet Earth. I know intellectually that, while I am 43 lbs lighter than I was when we first greeted 2011, I am not there yet...and it will be some time before my weight starts with a one and my dresses have a size with only one digit.
And heaven knows I know I put myself here. I ate those fries, I neglected to run those miles.
A friend suggests to me that I get involved with things "BBW."
I lock myself in a bathroom stall and cry. I don't want to be a "Big Beautiful Woman." I want to be a "beautiful woman" without a qualifying adjective.