Weight Loss Ambiguity

More To Love with a pic of a volluptuous white woman

I don’t feel proud to be losing weight.

Probably because I didn’t  feel ashamed to gain it in the first place.

When I started this blogg, I named myself Bigmama2x, and that’s still my email address, but–like my clothing– the name no longer fits.

Over the past year I have lost 43 pounds. If I lose eight more pounds, I will be down to my full-term pregnancy weight. That may sound ridiculous, unless you know that I lost 50lb. During my last pregnancy–weight that I gained back immediately afterwards.

If I go down one more shirt size I’ll be the same size I was in High School! Only with much bigger titts!

So why aren’t I all proud of losing all of this weight? I don’t feel like I’m doing anything to cause it. I’m not a binge eater fighting cravings. I’m not on a diet. All that I’ve done is take a few more walks and tried to make good eating choices.

I’ve never felt that my weight was something I had direct control over: when I was a lazy teenager who got little exercise and ate poorly, I weighed 140 lb. (I’m 5’8″)
When I was a malnourished, extremely active homeless girl, I weighed 140 lb.
When I had my first baby my weight went up to 200.
After he was born it went all the way up to 250.
I had just lost a little when I got pregnant again, and my weight plunged back down to 200–that’s including fetus & water weight. I felt like I was starving the whole time!
But I went right back up there!

My weight’s fluctuated mildly since then, but I’ve never lost weight at such a pace. My body feels strange: my hips & thighs and ass feel tight, although of course my stomach is still bigger than I’d like.

Still, I don’t feel proud of losing weight. Everyone tried to make me feel bad for being “overweight” or “obese” but I refused.
I refused to buy into the guilt and shame that society tried to feed me.

I realized that I preferred my lovers thick–so why shouldn’t they like me that way too?

Don’t get me wrong–I’m glad that I’m losing weight–the death of my Beloved of a heart attack at 35 woke me up to the dangers of poor diet, low exercise and bad food choices, but I’m not proud either.

Because if I was to be proud of losing weight–that would mean that before I was ashamed!

Adventures in the BBW District Part 2

I recommend starting with Part 1.

The floor filled up with extra big women in skimpy, sexy outfits and thinner men. Besides my posse on the dance floor all the women were white, outnumbering the men 2:1, and the men were split between white and black. There was one man watching from the sidelines as we danced who gave me really bad vibes with his squirelly eyes and greasy hair. I integrated a prayer into my dance that he would cause no harm that night.

It felt so good, and so–I don’t know–normal to be out on the floor dancing with these beautiful women. I never really went out dancing with a group of femmes before. We were all good dancers, but when Chelsea started pulling some crazy moves, it turned into one of those ‘spotlight’ moments. Each woman had a turn to bust a move…and I did what I always do when my turn comes up…I folded. I think I’m generally a good dancer, but I don’t really conciously know any steps. I just kinda improvise. Every time I have “all eyes on me” I just can’t think of anything to do. I think I need to search the web for some kind of impressive dance move and actually learn it for just such moments.

As the night wore on it became clear that, wife or no wife, Tami and Kiki had made a connection, and apparently that meant that Tami and Chelsea had to spend a prolonged period in the bathroom, presumably gossiping about the situation. This is some kind of ‘normal’ femme ritual that I’ve never really been exposed to before. I guess my friends have tended to be hippies/alternative-types and/or men or bois, so despite being typecast as a Femme, I haven’t really had a lot of exposure to girly ways.

I did, however, get roped into an all-too-familiar straight ritual when a woman pulled me aside and told me that her friend wanted to talk to me. I sat down next to him gamely. His brown face lit up as he favored me with a smile. Was he attractive? I don’t know. I think that his attraction for me was attractive.

“I’ve seen you before in Watertown, you look really nice.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Wait-where did you see me?”

“At one of these dances, in Watertown.”

“Um, I’ve never been to one of these before.”

“Uhuh…” He replied skeptically. “You’ve really never been to one of these before?” Like it was so hard to believe that a big girl like me could really go her whole life–even find plenty of partners–without attending an event specially catering to women with her form. (Believe me, at a size 16 I was skinny compared to most of these women.)

“No, my friend just told me about it–”

“So, are those your friends?” He interjected. “So what’s the story with you guys?”

“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath, “We’re Lesbians.”

“What???” He did a serious double-take. “Really?”

“Uhuh.”

“So where are you from?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

“I’m from ****” (neighborhood with a reputation for rich jewish people.)

“Oh, so you’re rich.”  His eyes lit up with dollar signs.

“Um, no…” I replied. “Not everyone who lives in **** is rich.” If I had any attraction for him at all it was gone at this point. I am soooooo sick of men and studs too thinking that just because I’m white and I live in a certain neighborhood I’m made of money! I’m not, and even if I was, how attractive do they really think that blatantly exploitative mentality is? Oh yeah, show me you just want me for what you think you can get from me, because then I will definitely want to sleep with you and pay for your shit! Fuck that!

So I did what I always do at this point, I down-sold myself.

“Actually, I live in my mother’s basement…with my two kids.”

“But I thought you were a Lesbian?”

Adventures in the BBW District Part 1

We walked into the room like a thicker, sexier, lesbian version of Girlfriends. (Wait, does that make me Lynn? I am the lightest, thinnest of the four of us, and I have been known to be something of a hippy…okay I’m Lynn lol)

Four femmes walking across the room and we were invisible. I found myself wishing we had a stud with us so that we would be instantly recognizable as the Lesbian posse that we were. Not that were really invisible–three gorgeous brown-skinned women with their cleavage and legs proudly displayed (and their slinkily dressed white friend) strutting through a room full of plus-sized white women and thinner black men is hardly invisible.

We were at a BBW party. That’s a Big Beautiful Women (and the people who love them) party. My friend Chelsea had the idea that this would be a good place to meet women. She brought her friend Tami: a drop-dead gorgeous, golden skinned, curvaceous woman with a neat short puff and a deadbeat stud wife. (Whom she conveniently left behind.) I brought my off-the-hook friend Kiki: dark-skinned, extra thick, with a cute smile, WAY too much ass, and more sexual energy than I could handle. (I think…I don’t know…I feel a combination of intrigue and terror at the thought of getting intimate with her.)

We found a table and sat down. Over drinks the conversation got kinky. I realized how nice it was to be out with women whose minds are possibly dirtier than mine is, and mouths that would make a trucker blush.

Rather tame sample of our conversation:

“Justa’s like you Tami, she doesn’t use toys.” Chelsea announced. Tami and I high fived.

“Not me!” Hollered Kiki, “I have a whole bag full of toys!”

“Me too!” Put in Chelsea.

Me: “My toy box is just the place I keep my batteries.” (Hoots from the ladies)

“So what do you like?” Tami asked me.

“I like eating pussy.”

“Mmm me too,” Tami responded, showing the piercing in her tongue and making prolonged eye-contact with Kiki. “I can make a woman come in five seconds.”

“I’d like to see that!” Kiki replied sceptically.

“Me too!” I chimed in, trying to think of a time I came in less than twenty minutes…or forty…or longer. I can be a tough nut to crack sometimes, even for myself.

A curvy blond in a leopard print shirt approached our table and started flirting with Tami. Tami complemented her on her shirt, then she complemented all of us on her titts….Tami reached out and playfully squeezed her ample tit in response. A slenderish blond woman joined us at the table, hovering around her ‘friend’ as she and our table bantered.

“So there are some pretty hot guys here, huh?” The blond asked.

“I don’t know.” Kiki replied, “I’m gay.”

“Well, I’m not GAY,” The ample blond replied, “I just like women.”

Part 2