Well, I was impressed yesterday with the delivery of some food that Candy ordered kind of by accident. She was browsing this new listing on “grub hub” and it was a Korean, Japanese, and Chinese variety type of restaurant. It was just out of curiosity that Candy would fill out a whole menu order, just to see how much it would cost to experiment a little bit with a food that she had never tried before.
The menu was impressive, and Candy was just playing around, so she picked out about $60 worth of stuff. She believes that she would have just closed the window at that point, or switched to doing something else, but somewhere along the line, she must have hit “enter” or clicked the one button to complete the process.
I was glad that I was actually home at the time it arrived, because I had just been out to do an errand, and Candy would have not wanted to answer the door. She would have been nude as well, so she would have had to travel all the way across the apartment and back in order to answer the door at all.
She would have probably assumed that the knock on the door was just a solicitation and ignored it, until they called her to tell her that the order was there and nobody was answering. It never came to that though, the faint initial knock was heard from the kitchen just before Candy was about to make a B.L.T. and a fruit smoothie.
There was a moment of confusion at the door with the driver, because Candy never told me she ordered, so I asked her. With the guy at the door, she’s like “I didn’t order anything.” The guy looks at his phone and says her name, and verifies the apartment number.
I realized that Candy had probably already put down the cash on this, so it would be ridiculous to attempt to deny the order and send it back expecting a refund. I told him that she just started a new medication and accepted the order.
Having been a delivery driver so many years into the past, you don’t want to be at the door with this kind of confusion going on, because it could be a much more sinister plot, and I know it would cause anxiety for him. I made a snap decision based on the entirety of the situation, knowing that the food would end up getting tossed, and Candy would be pissed that the money wasn’t going to be refunded.
Candy had a moment of freaking out, where she was like “I don’t remember ordering that!” She knew she had been playing around with that restaurant’s menu, but she swore up and down that she didn’t click “finish order”. As a result, she took a credit card number off the site so she would be forced to endure the whole process of entering it before an order could possibly be made by mistake or subliminal “hangry” slip of the finger.
Candy had been waiting all day for the delivery of a device that would be used for breathing treatments. For some reason, she put on make up early, and hours later, her eyes were burning with the eye liner she applied earlier. She was impatient, hungry, and she really wanted to order a big selection of Mexican food.
I never understand how Candy wants to continue experimenting with Mexican food because she doesn’t really like cilantro very much. Her taste palate is so very sensitive that she somehow picks up a “soapy” taste with that herb. It is used very predominantly in Mexican food, so she is taking a calculated risk with each attempt to order it.
The restaurant that Candy was checking out was kind of expensive, almost unnecessarily so. Japanese restaurants are not usually known for being very cheap, but the thought of Korean food makes me think that it should be more along the cost level of Chinese food. Either way, Candy picked out some exotic things that she had never tried, but assumed she might like.
Going over the receipt online after consuming all of it, she would call out the cost of each item in amazement and disappointment for how little food there actually was. Candy would express her regret by breaking down how she could have ordered food 3 different times for the cost of that 1 time, and it would have been an immense amount of food, if the type was a little less expensive!
Because of this expense, and because Candy had already mentally prepared herself to do a video eating Mexican food, she was ready to jump in there and consume the Korean and Japanese food for a video as if she had gotten exactly what she wanted, but she didn’t.
The food was really good, according to her, there was so little of it that I only had a teaspoon of broth that came with one of the dishes. I was satisfied with that one taste because I could sample the flavor palate of that type of food for the first time in my life myself. I’m not as driven to experience new and different foods as Candy is though, so I’m content with a can of tuna, some mayo, salt and pepper, a slice of cheese, and 2 pieces of toast smashed down into it so they soften up.
Without mentioning it repeatedly, all my teeth were removed in mid September of 2014, and the dentist fucked me over and tried to make a mold for dentures while I still had teeth. It is March of 2015 and I am still fighting with insurance over those fucked up dentures.
That is only relevant in the fact that eating has changed so much for me in that time. I can almost experience Candy’s wonder and satisfaction with new foods merely by filming her eating them. Even more, watching the videos later in review and editing also seems to have the same effect.
I realize that mirror neurons are at work when people get off on porn, but I didn’t realize until I started creating feeder and feedee content that there also seems to be something at work in that arena as well. By watching Candy eat these things, and enjoy them with such immense appreciation, I feel like I am enjoying them as well. When she smiles big because she is about to tear into some huge feast that most people could not begin to eat, I can feel her excitement and anticipation as if I am her for that brief moment.
That’s probably crazy talk in and of itself, but after editing hundreds, or maybe thousands of videos, something has started to sink in over time. I always thought I was destined to create “fat porn” the way I like it, the way I wish there was more of back when I was going through puberty and ordering VHS tapes in the mail with lawn cutting money.
Now, I have created thousands of hours of feeder content. It wasn’t what I used to masturbate to, because I was always a fan of full on hardcore with visual penetration and hopefully a facial that the model doesn’t flinch or gag during. 🙂
I used to express frustration in the way that the very few SSBBWs participated in the creation of the content that I enjoyed watching for that purpose. I wondered why they would veer off into more fetish areas like squashing, eating, and being dominatrix types. I am surprised by my own vanilla tastes in porn considering how I am attracted to women who have a BMI that would be considered super morbidly obese.
I am not into immobile women either. I had that whole experience with Alexis in Florida creating fatfantasy.net and biggerandbetter.net. She was already on oxygen when I met her, and now Candy needs breathing treatments. It really frightens me that she allowed this to progress to such a level, when I would have been happy creating hardcore content. The truth is, she could never get as excited about making hardcore or even fetish content as she would be making feeder content.
Being as adaptive as I am, I would have sensed this eagerness to produce something rather than nothing, and I ran with it. I am a classic enabler for that reason. At least I am an unwilling enabler, so Candy knows that I will not encourage behavior that I know will hurt her over time. I’ve read a lot of zodiac stuff lately because of Twitter, and from what I’ve seen, Aquarius are very future oriented.
I had this conflict of interests going on, between what I like to see, and what Candy wanted to do. Candy would win, because she is already my volunteer subject, and I am grateful for her to do anything in front of the camera I operate. She is the only one who does appear in front of my camera, and I believe it is not out of circumstance, but by choice.
I have experimented with the idea of working with other people, or bringing in other people to work with Candy, but unfortunately, that whole experience usually came along with some kind of sexual contact with people other than her. For years she was cool with this type of situation, but back in 2008 I sensed that she was growing weary of it, and I stopped attempting to recruit new models.
Now, I realize that I still have the ability to recruit, and if anything, it’s like riding a bicycle. Once you have had that experience of identifying and talking to the right potential candidates, it is so much easier than most people could imagine. If i walked into a bar with a professional looking video camera after midnight, I would probably get flashed by a few women who just didn’t give a fuck. That doesn’t mean they would model while sober, but the intent is there, and sometimes, all it takes is the right person to pull it out of them.
Now i have gotten way off course, but I started out wanting to describe one event, and I was hopelessly compelled to jump into a much more vast sea of thought. I realize that is one of my writing weaknesses, and something I have to work on. When I start writing though, I don’t always know exactly what direction I am going to go in when I start.
Blogging is such a string of consciousness type of writing, I never even usually do much more editing than the first draft. I’m sure it shows, but like an episode of Saturday Night Live, there might be %20 of really relevant and interesting info, and about %80 of me trying to figure out what is interesting to me.
I scroll back up to the title, almost intending to change it, but “unexpected korean food” is catchy, and I like it. This whole stream of thought began there, and I had this whole route I wanted to take, describing this food in intimate detail, maybe using this page as a notepad for remembering the foreign names to all these dishes that I have never tasted, and still haven’t.
What a segue back to the point, huh? 🙂
Candy is able to enjoy a virtual trip around the world by just eating from each country that is widely available in the diverse food climate of Las Vegas. There is just about every type of food here that you can imagine, almost all available to order, and all catering to a diverse climate of tourists from all over the world. I saw someone say on the show “No Reservations” that people come half way around the world to gamble in Las Vegas, and when they get hungry, as far as they are from home, they want to have a taste of it while they are here.
Because there are people coming to Las Vegas from all over the world, you don’t just have “Chinese food”. You have authentic Chinese dishes that you never would have heard of at your local Chinese buffet. There are dishes from Japan, China, and Korea all in one place, and they are all prepared in such an authentic manner as to impress people who just ate those dishes in those respective countries.
In the case of the mysteriously ordered Korean and Japanese food, I want to run down some of the dishes that Candy was able to sample, because I have just realized after needing to take a break to help Candy out with some stuff, I am spending a tad too much time here.
Candy really enjoyed this, and she should have, because the small platter with 3 or 4 pieces of pork and a piece of radish was kind of pricey. I tried a teaspoon of the broth, and it was awesome, but there was no way I would be sampling meat from such a small selection available! The restaurant where Candy obtained this says that it is 5 hour braised pork belly. Sounds delicious!
The wider shot shows nearly all the meat that was in this tray, along with a close up view of what Candy is assuming was a piece of daikon radish. Everything smelled so great, and Candy was able to finish off everything on the evening it was ordered, so I can tell she really did like it. More information on that dish could be found here.
The next dish was Char Siu pork belly with steamed bun and baby spinach leaves with cucumber. Candy really liked this one too, although again, this was a relatively small portion for the cost. I don’t try to be cheap when it comes to the food that Candy really wants to try, but she is the one who is disappointed to see what looks like less food than one Chinese lunch special in 5 dishes worth $60.
Not being totally sure exactly how to eat it, Candy makes little sandwiches with the steamed buns and the pork, along with the little veggies too. That worked out pretty good for her, she was using a steamed bun to wipe up the pork belly sauce from the bottom of that tray.
Here is some more info on char siu pork belly preparation. This is where I realized that this dish is Chinese and Cantonese and not actually Korean, even though the place Candy ordered from had a Korean theme with Chinese, Cantonese, and Japanese dishes available.
Karaage is the name of a Japanese cooking technique where meat is deep fried in oil, just like french fries. One dish that Candy ordered was karaage chicken with Kewpie mayo and mixed salts. The technique is similar to tempura but obviously the batter is different, just like American fried chicken. Candy enjoyed this just as much as she would have fried chicken, but I’m sure that she wished there was more of it there! These little trays were pretty small as it is, the mayo and mixed salts nearly took up as much room as all the chicken. There may have been five or six pieces of chicken in there, and Candy loved it, but she can tell that the Japanese tendency to eat smaller portions doesn’t seem to work very well for her. Of course.
When I review all of the dishes, it appears that one was Japanese, another was Cantonese, and finally I get to a Korean dish. I was totally misusing the hash tag Korean Food Pics on Twitter, my bad. The small selection of galbi bbq short ribs was highly satisfying to Candy, but again, the portion size was a serious issue for her. For the cost of this dish, she could have had me pick up an entire side of ribs and slap them in the oven, but again, this was more than just an eating experience, it was a cultural experience. I had the opportunity to learn about this food just like she had the opportunity to eat it.
The ribs were cut thin, and served with white rice. Candy didn’t need to use any of the mixed salts, Japanese mayo, or hot mustard on these. They were quite tasty, and I noticed that she seemed to enjoy them to the degree that I had to stop everything and get more of a close up on her face as she ripped the meat from the bones with her teeth, eating with her cute fat little sausage fingers.
The next and final plate was a 3 way of kushi. I looked that up, and it’s a Japanese technique for cooking on skewers. In the case of these 3 samples of kushi, they were all prepared over binchotan charcoal and served with mixed salts as well in the little tubs. This is another dish that is actually Japanese inspired, if the name kushi was given to the preparation. Yet another item that I attached to Korean food photos on twitter mistakenly because Candy just said “Korean restaurant” without telling me it was an Asian variety restaurant with a Korean theme.
There was wagyu beef kushi, which Candy really liked, and when I research it, this name is also associated with kobe, which is another cut of meat that you are going to be paying a bit more for than you would for domestic beef. That’s why each one of these little entrees was around $8. Again, this was an accidental order, and at the time she did it, she says she wanted Mexican food. She still wants Mexican food, so that will probably be her next trip on her food around the world tour. She won’t stop there though, she already has plans to explore each region in South America in the process.
Back to the kushi though, there was also pork belly kushi, and you know she loved that. The final one was beef tongue kushi. Candy mentioned that the beef tongue was kind of unique, and while she ate the hell out of it, that’s something she might not be so eager to go for in the future. Pork belly is always a safe bet, because it’s basically bacon, and you know Candy loves some bacon. The wagyu beef seemed kind of wasted on her, because she would have been just as happy with much larger chunks of domestic beef on more than 3 little skewers.
When I ask Candy to recollect exactly what she thought of these, she said that the only one she really liked was the wagyu beef. She said the tongue was interesting, but she would not get it again. I may have said that but I took a break and don’t feel like reading back.
It was a surprise when it showed up, but once it did, and Candy got over the shock of having accidentally ordered it, she consumed every single bite, even if some of these dishes were not her favorite ever. This was an experience that was quite unique, because Candy often makes a plan for exactly what she wants to eat, and then goes about doing everything in her power to get it. On this occasion, I wonder if her order was accidentally on purpose, because she was just curious about Korean food, and she did go to the effort of creating this exact order, even if she was playing fantasy football with food choices.
Candy was able to finish off that entire feast, although it was barely half of what one big Chinese lunch plate would include, or a crap load of burgers and fries, or so many chicken nuggets that Candy would never want to eat one again in her life. That evening, after the last of the Japanese and Korean feast was finished, she still wanted something sweet. Peppermint ice cream did the trick, while I waited on a data transfer to make more room on her C: drive.
This was a really fun experience, even if most of that day was spent doing work on other things while waiting on a delivery to show up, so that Candy could accidentally order food to show up even later, just before trying to cook something she thought she really wanted. The day after this feast, Candy didn’t waste any time to whip up a BLT sandwhich along with a bowl of left over chili with beans over white rice.
Another blog post must come to an end, it seemed like it would never end, and I am the freaking one writing it! 🙂
you know, i kind of like this style of not capitalizing, but that was one way when people could tell when i was intoxicated. at this point, i am getting a thrill out of writing more while not intoxicated, so without that little hint, it should still be obvious if i am drunk or not, or if i might be just a tiny bit high.
i re-read the prior post, and i could go back and clean it up a bit, but i want to leave it, because i did announce that i was somewhat intoxicated, although not nearly to the degree that i have been in the past during my worst online behavior ever.
there has been some talk about an ebook that came out recently, written by a friend of candy’s, and this work was not very appreciated at all by so many people. at the same time, so many people provided negative feedback. when i see something like that, i am reminded of just how irrelevant my own writing can be, and how i am probably just ‘talking to myself’ more than expressing anything of any value or interest.
i realize that there are times when i go off on some tangent and i really try to get deep into something, but some of my own descriptions seem somewhat disconnected and incoherent at times. that is probably more related to practice than if i am intoxicated on alcohol.
i went into that forum i talked about before with an agenda. the main agenda was to just “make new friends and meet new people”. this seems harmless enough, but now i realize that the typical agenda of the individual in that forum is not going to be quite that simple. i forget that the “making friends” part is just “part one” in the advanced long term agenda.
i was fighting a losing battle to assume that my honestly simple agenda would hold much interest for those who would focus, rightfully, on those individuals who had an agenda that came somewhere close to their own. when i talk about “just friends”, that pretty much eliminates us from the swingers, the voyeurs, the unicorn hunters, and most importantly, the “fat herder”.
i briefly mentioned this “ptsd episode” where “drunk me” decided to “go off” in some forum because i felt that people hadn’t paid enough attention to me or something. i had been somewhat offended by the tendency for one person who ran the group to hit me with information about a group get together in response to my initial post, where i said in the last paragraph that candy was not into that stuff.
i felt disregarded, a little disrespected, and somewhat offended by that exchange. as time went on, that sense of being offended and blown off increased as there was literally no other response to anything i would post in that thread or any other thread i attempted to participate in.
now, if i had creeped people out already with my participation, or anything i had said, it still didn’t stop someone from blindly pursuing an agenda even though i stated in my post that we were not candidates for that agenda. this kind of social media cold calling is always very unattractive, because it’s going to draw in the kind of guys who are not so open and up front about wanting to “make new friends”, because they are looking for easy prey for one of many possible agendas.
it was really unfair for me to try to communicate with the most social acting person in that and literally hundreds of other forums, because i should have realized that she too was casting a large net, but for something that i would have no interest in if it involved having sex in front of people that we don’t know.
i should have known better that this person would really like to “get to know new people” as she seemed to try so hard to do with every other person in the forum. she was casting this net out there, reeling in as many people as she could herself, but as she said it was about friendship, it really wasn’t, and the vague and ambiguous nature of “he likes to watch” wasn’t very informative as to her likes and dislikes as an intellectual friend.
maybe a part of me was so used to being rejected sexually as a single male, that now, i am really insulted when i am rejected for simple friendship that doesn’t involve eventually fucking someone or watching them get fucked by someone else, or letting them fuck my old lady, or whatever.
i am really grateful for that whole experience, even if it made me “look bad” in the eyes of all those people who have an agenda that doesn’t match mine or candy’s anyway. maybe, just maybe, no matter how bad i get online, there are people out there who wanted to say the same things, but just didn’t want to deal with the burden of being a social media outcast.
candy should be ashamed or at least embarrassed by some of my behavior online, but she’s “used to it” now. she knows that as i go around making a fool of myself occasionally, that i am only scaring off the vultures and the buzzards that don’t want true friendship as much as they seem to want to find new sex partners gathered around the corpse they consume.
that is a horrible and morbid association, but that’s how i view the whole alleged size acceptance community at this point. people love to use that phrase, size acceptance, while they hold these gatherings where socialization comes at a price at the door, and the smaller bbws can stare and gawk at the ssbbws in much the same way everybody else in society does. i have heard, and fortunately not experienced, that this type of behavior is not only tolerated at some past events, but encouraged for amusement and entertainment.
that is a harsh allegation, but i have heard some pretty low down stuff about the ‘vegas bbw bash’ before it changed management and became ‘something else’. in the last year before the management changed, i somehow stumbled upon facebook posts by people who left early for some reason or another. luckily for them, all was not lost because the new group was forming as the old group was dying. it’s just a kind of changing of the guard, and for all i know, it may be better, but candy doesn’t want to submit herself to the mere possibility that she could end up being the entertainment when things might fall apart.
it doesn’t help matters that there has not really been any kind of close friendships online with the kind of people who shell out hundreds of dollars to “meet new people” at these events.
i am really cheap, so not only is it not really affordable to begin with, i simply can’t allow myself to invest without some kind of return on investment. that would provide me with an agenda as i paid hundreds of dollars, and the chance for real disappointment if i didn’t get exactly what i wanted.
that’s why i can just simply elect not to participate, for the comfort of everyone else involved, and because candy has no desire to walk into a room full of complete strangers, and watch the cliques form and she’s stuck with the online asshole that is me.
now, there are gatherings that are free to attend, and there are gatherings that have a small cost at the door per person, much more manageable, and without building up much expectation. the only problem with those gatherings is shared with the larger gatherings. there is a lack of interest to get to know people before or unless they actually attend one of these things first.
i have some fucked up perception at times, but this reminds me of a guy who doesn’t want to waste any time having to get to know a woman online before hooking up first. i am sure the ladies of a more feminist persuasion would love that argument.
much the same way, candy enjoys the online attention at times for being a ssbbw celebrity of sorts, but at the same time, it would be awkward and uncomfortable for her to enter a situation where the only attention she receives is from guys who wish they could fuck her, or women who pity her and want to give her advice to help her change because they used to be like her.
we went to hang out in a hotel room while an event was going on because candy wanted to hang out with just one person who was there for a bit. after candy got up to go to the bathroom, and her friend was off for a few minutes doing something, a woman walked up to candy and started sincerely talking to her about how she used to suffer like candy, and how horrible it was, and how much she worked to correct it.
i realize there is a natural instinct to be nice and helpful, but candy has had to remind me on many occasions about how offensive unsolicited advice can be, and this situation was not only uncomfortable for candy, but depressing, and further inspiration not to want to hang out with a bunch of fat people just because she is fat.
there are events in the past that candy has attended, but only because she was good friends with the organizer, so she got to hang out with the “cool kids” and she was protected from any possibility of being made a spectacle or being shunned for being super sized. it kind of helps when the group organizer is super morbidly obese herself, so candy doesn’t feel like the only one.
i know i was unfair in that group, i tried to contribute, but probably appeared kind of manic like i just wouldn’t shut up. this is after repeated complaints about how quiet members are. once i try to make conversation, every comment is followed by an empty box, until i come back and think of something new.
if i am talking to myself anyway, why the fuck should i be there? i could be typing here, and if i do that every day, this shit will eventually pay off in some way. this is the kind of agenda i should get behind.
that’s probably why i got impatient with myself and with the members of that tiny little insignificant group, and allowed myself to truly get nasty with people out of some need to burn out rather than fade away.
i did try to attend 2 different events on my own, to scout the waters of las vegas bbw interaction. the first event was called a “bbw take over” at some local bar. the bar was split into two main sections, and one was inhabited by people who obviously had nothing to do with the bbw thing. it was obvious in no time which section was designated for the bbw event, because there was nothing but rap music going, and a few women that seemed a little larger than the ones on the other side.
i mention rap music as it relates to bbw events, and have to take a time out for this little complaint. i might occasionally like to hear some house, or techno, like turning it into a mini rave for just a few minutes, but at this event, it was rap and only rap music. occasionally there was something popular in the dance category, but mostly, there were what sounded like independent rap artists that made references to “big women” repeatedly, usually making graphic sexual comparisons in the process.
there was a “booty meat” competition. sometimes i realize the very real handicap in being caucasian and having a preference for big butt white women. i can’t get away with telling a woman i like her big booty. black women will usually show off a big booty in a profile rather than cutting off all photos at the neck or maybe waist. that’s where i come up with a phrase i like to use, “white and uptight“. i totally understand how some people can have a racial preference other than their own when they just happen to be white.
i would not have really noticed that i was the only white guy there until i overheard one woman saying as she walked out “that’s the white guy“. it’s like somebody had a running bet on if any white guys would show up at all, and if so, how many. that wasn’t uncomfortable or anything!
that is connected to the second thing i showed up at. i always thought it would be cool to go to a fat strip club, or a strip club that had a fat/bbw night. there was this thing that a woman i have seen on a few websites was doing, and i went. i walked in, hung out at the bar, and this guy comes up to me saying “we’re the only white guys here!” ok, that was fucking uncomfortable. again, i hadn’t noticed it myself and it was not a thought that had jumped into my head, until this jabroni said it.
i was not really impressed by the dancers, except for one, julia sands. she is teeny tiny in my realm of interest on a physical or sexual level, but she was honestly the most talented woman there. most of the others just kind of walked around on stage with their pendulous breasts swinging, and it just wasn’t really attractive to me at all.
after that experience, i realize i would rather watch some of those women in pre-recorded content than ever see them attempt “stripping”. i am sorry for being so negative, but they were just not very good at dancing, the ones i let myself actually look at here and there. the one cutest girl there danced when i was outside getting high with the “only other white guy”, and that is what caused the cops to show up and harass some black guys later. cops are so freaking racist, and weed being prohibited is fucking racist, where is the naacp on that shit?
at the bbw take over event, the only person in that entire place that attempted to socialize with me was a skinny woman who pulled me onto the dance floor, and i think she was a prostitute. i managed to overhear the “white guy” comment because i was outside on the phone with candy, and a couple were leaving and walked close enough for me to hear that. it felt kind of racist to tell you the truth, but because of ‘white privilege’ i’m not supposed to feel discriminated against.
at the bbw strip club thing, i was still looking for a good weed connection, and one chance encounter at that place was vital for that to happen, but it was a guy i already knew from years before, who only came in to see one model for a private lap dance and then get the hell out of there.
i am still so grateful to him for that connection, because the woman organizing the event offered to sell me weed right there, but never followed through with it. she just wanted me to go to the atm to have money to tip dancers, and i wasn’t going to, because i was really uncomfortable with the whole strip club dynamic.
i had been to a strip club over a decade before, with a guy i worked with, because his girlfriend worked there. yeah, i was hanging with pretty interesting people long before the internet came along. it was only once, and nobody there hustled me for dances or anything, so i didn’t get the full experience.
at the strip club, the only people who talked to me were the guy i already knew, and the “only other white guy“, who talked about selling weed, but he never contacted me when i wrote to the email address he gave me. then there were the dancers, and again, i was just too intimidated and depressed by the over all energy of that environment that i could not bring myself to participate. i felt weird, like it would be deceptive to candy to let someone just dance for me, even though it might have helped to get a future modeling collaboration with candy if i had at least tried to tip and show some interest.
i felt weird and awkward, as if tipping someone would lead to an assumption that i was creepy or predatory. i never fully understood the whole strip club thing, and it probably has a lot to do with the fact that i have always chosen to socialize with women on a much more interpersonal and intellectual level. this tip for a show mentality felt deviant and primal to me. that’s ironic coming from a pornographer. being a producer of pornography, i control my environment, and i have decades of experience with the modeling dynamic as a photographer. the stripper and customer exchange feels too much like prostitution to me, which i believe should be legal, but i would never participate in it.
i had an agenda in going to those places, to “make new friends and meet new people”, and maybe see if anybody wanted to sell some weed. it turned out that the only person of any help to me at that time was one guy i *already knew* and candy begged him for the weed hook up via email days or weeks after that event. actually, probably the day after. thank god that happened. just like a game of grand theft auto, i had to hang out at a strip club to get my weed connection before i had the medical marijuana card. it took eight months to get that connection. yes, again, eight fucking months.
i really am grateful to that guy, and i should try to thank him online at some point, but it was no big deal to him, and he gets plenty of action to the point where he probably forgot even helping us out so much. 🙂
about the strippers that asked me if i wanted a lap dance, i was way too uncomfortable for that. even after 2 beers, a hard limit while having to drive, i was too inhibited to go for a “lap dance”. i did get to talk to julia sands, and again, while i have no fixation on her sexually, i admire her work ethic and her talent, and it would be awesome to get to work with her at some point. candy would probably be star struck and very uncomfortable though, so that may never happen unless candy goes for it, not me. 🙂
so, i was really aggravated about the woman at the strip club telling me she could hook me up with weed when she had no intention of it. maybe the cops showing up stopped it from happening, but it’s not like she ever followed up on it later. candy tells me she is probably a pill head who didn’t remember talking to me later in the same evening.
since i mentioned the naacp way back in this post, and something i believe they should look into, i should also mention how my main gripe with any attempt at social dependent size acceptance is in the group naafa. the national association for the advancement of fat acceptance. that group was created in an effort to raise awareness of size discrimination, but they quickly became more obsessed with growing membership and having “bashes” rather than doing anything having to do with raising awareness outside of the “pay to play” social group.
that shit is fucking classism. i know it’s easy for me to cry injustice in classism because i happen to be living in a controlled state of poverty. i don’t freak out about being “poor” because I am “poor on purpose” in order to be totally legally eligible for medicaid. i have done that as part of an experiment to see just how shitty medicaid is, and how many medical professionals attempt to fuck you up the ass when you have medicaid. that exercise in bureaucracy in and of itself took about three years. the first year was the year before obamacare even started, just seeing if i could regulate income at that level and actually live comfortably doing so. it turns out, in the third year, yes i can. 🙂
while i mention my distaste in the way that size acceptance was eventually used as a for profit social platform, it doesn’t mean i am against it because i can’t afford it. if i really, really wanted to participate in that stuff, i would make sure it happened. it took almost $300 just to get my medical marijuana card, so while i live in this regulated state of poverty, i was still able to achieve that easily. the point is, that investment is going to have a much higher return in personal pleasure and joy than attending a social event with a bunch of people i don’t know that i could not go to unless i paid hundreds to get in, or even nearly a hundred for both of us.
i watched as naafa basically disintegrated after the million pound march, where speaker carnie wilson would later end up being a living commercial for lap band, and convince countless women to endure this surgical experiment. one of those women was known by candy long before she ever met me, and that woman never made it out of the hospital alive.
now carnie wilson is probably having her third weight loss surgical procedure, because as long as it’s a celebrity, it’s not insane to keep doing the same thing expecting different results. it works so well i did it three times! what a fuck head.
i guess the name of this post, “agendas” was appropriate. i have given so much information already, and i feel like i could type for another two hours. this little exercise was therapeutic, because it prevented me from “day drinking”.
i will get so much more done and feel so much better to have gotten all of this out. this is obviously the proper medium for me to take out my frustrations with the state of affairs in everything having to do with fat socialization at this point in our history, comparing it to the past, and other failed experiments in the same vein.
now i am free from writing in inappropriate areas as well. this one little, or not so little post has given me insight into myself, my behavior, and my reasoning and perception of the world that exists around me that i only occasionally have to enter into.
i have realized, that there was this need to express myself in some kind of equal proportion, to the way that i create videos and photos. i got wrapped up in some forum, and continued to purposely alienate myself in some attempt to see if there was just one soul who could understand, and comprehend any or all of the information i was putting out there.
i want to type while slightly buzzed, at the five beer limit, while i would usually be content to go to eight and then probably pass out. i knew early on that my limit was five. i knew that i had let myself get way out of control because i was dealing with the near constant pain of a hip that needs to be replaced, but i don’t want to do it yet. i want to push it.
it’s interesting, having ‘addiction issues’ while you watch the woman you love more than life itself continue on a path that you know is not sustainable.
you know, the inner conflict of dealing with that reality, while at the same time being hindered by certain physical limitations, might cause this emotional build up of uncertainty in the realm of how the fuck i am going to do everything i need to do while my own body is working against me.
with the recent weather, i ‘went crazy’ on some group, within some forum. i created a test environment where i got just weird enough to wait on response from those most important, and they could not respond. this test wasn’t very significant, but it must have unleashed a whole world of past bullshit that i was ready to call out on someone, that never got my full wrath in the past.
it should be noted, that i have gone to great lengths to be more positive. i have deleted major portions of this blog in the past because i went off on these manic rants, probably while intoxicated, and i didn’t fully explain things in a way that would have been more beneficial to the reading audience, and to myself.
i want to occasionally test the waters, in the local field of view, but every time, the same predictable variables appear, and some kind of ptsd activates and i begin to revert to this drunken defensive posture with full paranoia and unreasonable vitriol.
i have begun to really desire to figure out exactly what those episodes mean to me, and why i am inspired to take breaks from my work to create such useless and bridge burning agendas. one thing becomes clear. i created all that effort without the full approval of the one person that mattered the most. the queen of diplomacy. the love of my life. the one person in this entire world that i would jump in front of a gun to save, knowing that she would probably rather take it herself.
it would be hard to figure that i had a soft spot, but every super villain has a weakness. i never wanted to make myself such a mystical and negative creature, but something in my nature has this obvious need to defend itself while making some weak attempt to prove myself and maybe even her wrong.
the way that i have learned, was messed up to begin with. there were obvious weaknesses that i exhibited at an early age, that made me realize that i should assume i will be intimidating and unapproachable, because that seems to be the way i make myself on a regular basis.
every few months, i scout out like some kind of social media ant, and i test the waters, and every time, i go too far. i should be typing here instead of there, because everything i have to offer to any social media should be owned and controlled by me.
when i do reach out, i use vast, and nearly abstract concepts, and in introduce my own theories and observations. when i notice an obvious lag in reality that doesn’t match up with group activity, i seem to be quite offended really quickly. this causes me to reject the environment and become negative. that always has the same outcome, which i may have planned from the beginning. it is up to me to discover if i plan for that outcome or i predict outside agenda so precisely that i test it and confirm my guess by reaction.
i have spent so much time away from here. sometimes i have to go outward to realize that i am defensive of my discoveries and my thoughts themselves to the point where i nearly seek rejection in weird online forums in order to validate my own inner desire to keep all of my intellectual property to myself.
i must accuse myself of being somewhat fake, since i was probably carrying out yet another experiment and i didn’t even realize it myself, because i became frustrated with video games and the fruitless endeavor they provided. i realized that i could play the game of ‘life’, and sometimes i might do it wrong, but i am doing it my way.
this should be the place where i write, instead of any forum or any email to any person who attempts to reach out in friendship without exposing some hidden agenda. i hate to become more of a recluse, and stop trying, but candy herself has informed me that she will know when it is time for any attempt at gradual or eventual socialization.
i begin to understand that my writing will not make sense anywhere but here, because anywhere else does not fit in with a constant stream of consciousness that i started when i began this very blog and then deleted it entirely a few years later.
i should not have done that. it just had to be done, because i felt that i had matured as a writer and a person since that time. i have proved myself wrong time after time with my very bad trollish behavior on several forums, even to the present, which i am somewhat ashamed of.
i did state somewhere in one of those very forums, which is wasted now, that i was feeling things out, seeing if this particular thing was any better than any thing that had come before it. i did this knowing that this thing was exactly if not more what i had seen before and been disappointed by.
it’s really not my intention to go around looking for potential future failure at social interaction, it was my intention to attempt some kind of social interaction after realizing that i had become an island, and i had made candy an involuntary digital castaway.
after all i had been through with losing her and getting her back, there was that series of vulnerability that came with moving to a new place. after overcoming hurdle after hurdle, we finally got to a point where everything was taken care of, and we were ready to relax from work here and there to attempt to be more social.
actually, candy predicted my results from the latest forum failure. i have to give it to her, she knows me, and she gives me these tasks in futility to prove me wrong when i have a theory. she is much more brilliant than i will ever be.
now i get the chance to dive in deep to my own work. i have shamed myself yet again someplace that is really insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but showed me something about myself.
every time i am granted to see this negative side of myself come out, i know i end up better for it, as long as i see it coming and going.
i realize that i have a few tendencies that are naturally intimidating online. it’s ironic that i would never display those same abilities person to person unless threatened. maybe that helps me to create the true balance of whatever ‘character’ i am meant to play online as ‘obesiverse’.
my work is reflective, not so much in the environment that i exist in, but how i perceive it. while there are periods of time when my perception in altered, i sometimes wonder if the moniker ‘shaman’ is really appropriate. i did, after all, achieve a major objective in moving west, even if it took a few fucking years later than i thought… 🙁
so. i think there was this anticlimactic moment where i got this thing and i was like, “ok, now what?” i went trolling, which i didn’t mean to do at the time, but now i realize i was ‘feeding’ on some kind of emotional energy that reminded me of when i lost candy, even while she is here.
now i realize that even without ‘therapy’ i know how fucked up i am, and i know that there is a chance at redemption. i need to focus on not just my work, but on everything it will take to correct the fucked up behavior that i have pursued when i was intoxicated on alcohol.
i don’t want to totally blame alcohol either. even though i have really just flat out admitted to being an alcoholic on several occasions, i have legitimate use of other big pharma products that i refuse and choose alcohol over.
there were recent rains here, and i refused to take pills until it was nearly unbearable. i believe that my switch over to the ‘dark side’ in some of those forum groups was due to a drop in barometric pressure and my proportionate response to the pain with alcohol intake.
that is no excuse, and it is not acceptable. while i don’t issue apology, it is because i am condescending enough to believe they don’t really deserve it. that is a dying forum, and this was all one of my many online experiments.
i will forever appreciate the irony in the fact that someone who made the least attempt to respond to an email only did so because i called them out for lying about age and they said it was a ‘social experiment’. little did they know that my entire existence on that forum was an experiment. bwahahahahahaha. now, that is childish… 🙂
ok, i really feel good to write again here. i believe a part of me wanted to attempt to write somewhere else, be under appreciated, go the fuck off, and be driven back here… great job!!! 🙂 <3
I got an impulse to write a note here, after months, and after abusing anything resembling “writing skills” by making a nuisance of myself to a few people online.
I have recognized a behavior, that has taken place over the past couple of months, that was simply a progression of an embedded behavior that started years ago, with my experiment in addiction transfer.
It is probably obvious what I transferred to, and I think that there is a blog post here from the distant past that goes into very specific detail about the process. I have to check that, because if I wasted it on facebook I am a dumb ass.
I may have written it in a long, drawn out, mostly skimmed over or completely unread email, to someone who could not take me seriously because I was making the observation while intoxicated.
Over the past few weeks, I made a serious effort to break out of the loop I had created and neatly inserted myself into. I created a series of “personal ads” on any and every site that would allow for contact before having to pay a membership.
In the process, I came across someone very unique. She had an hour glass shape, but she had a career that prevented any kind of sexual content from being created involving her. I got to know her well enough to respect her career enough to tell her never to let me or anyone else ever take nude photos of her.
Over the course of just days, some of the emails got pretty intense. I got to know things about this woman that she told me most of her closest friends didn’t know. Before I knew it, I was talking to a person instead of a body.
It had been a long time, since I had serious, in depth, mutually beneficial contact with the outside world. Over just a few days of talking to her, the energy I expelled was so great that I was distracted from drinking. After a few weeks of heavy drinking to knock back the stress of taxes and a malfunctioning health insurance exchange, I had started to cause a progression of the drinking that was draining me, and draining Candy as well.
While talking to this one individual, I was granted with a temptation to keep my facilities in tact instead of blowing them away partially with 8-10 Milwaukee’s Best Ice. I only realized after a few days how easy it was for me to pour myself into my interests rather than kill interest in anything with the abuse of alcohol.
I broke down the exact mechanism by which I was using alcohol to wipe out anxiety, but I needed that anxiety in order to maintain order. The more I allowed myself to escape a familiar, inspirational form of anxiety, the further behind I got on everything, and everyone.
Candy hadn’t gotten to the point where she was threatening to leave. She was patient, and somehow tolerating my behavior, occasionally reminding me that it was hurting her, and occasionally blowing up in such a way that made it very difficult to restrain myself from escalating, especially while intoxicated.
Just a few days of some kind of deep, intimate, intellectual contact with another human being helped me to see from her perspective what I was doing to Candy. She had her own issues to work out, and I was trying to help her with them, because I let her know how grateful I was that she helped me to see things from just one outside perspective.
I had been isolating myself for so very long, based on many contributing factors. First, there is Candy’s social anxiety. I would feel guilty to go out every weekend partying with the fabulous people of Las Vegas while she sat at home, exploring a virtual world of “second life”.
While she would not show any signs of missing out to me, I am sure she would feel some kind of disappointment or envy if I casually walked out of the apartment to meet groups of people, while she sat confined by her own anxiety.
Just the thought of what she might feel caused me to start isolating myself. I removed myself from local groups on facebook, and I made absolutely no attempts to socialize locally. Every once in a while, I would get really loaded and write some weird 5000 word rant to someone in email, because I was having distress about my first world problems.
That wasn’t interaction, that was a one sided psychic barrage of negative energy, that the recipient didn’t need to deal with. I would be tempted to attempt an apology to each and every person I have ranted to like this, but I probably apologized at the end of it, knowing that I was in psycho drunk mode.
Talking to that one human being, that I never met, made me want to be a better person for Candy, because from her perspective. I could see more in depth how my behavior was hurting her, and more importantly, hurting myself. I knew I was letting myself get behind, I knew I was letting myself and everything I care about slip by as I literally walked right outside of time and space itself, creating a whole reality that only I could see.
That’s the biggest problem with alcohol. It’s a beautiful drug, with a potentially wonderful high, but once an individual is under it’s spell, it is way too tempting to pass way beyond any reasonable or acceptable limit. Once the limit is passed, one part of me is sleeping, and a very obnoxious, negative, pessimistic, condescending, arrogant, asshole comes out.
I would watch the television show “Cops” and laugh at the topless drunk guys trying to fight four or five police at once. I know exactly what is going through that guys mind, and it is depressing to me. The ride up to that point is fun, thrilling, and mind altering. The problem comes in when the mind has been altered to a point beyond reason and the ability to see consequence.
The woman I talked to for days eventually burned out, exactly like I told her she would. I made a comparison to her with a high wattage light bulb, that burns out so much faster than a lower wattage one. I told her this just days before she freaked out and could not handle the restraint it took to stop being a slut and make a few real friends for once.
I knew it got too deep, too fast, and she was developing feelings for me because I was the first guy who resisted her advances in order to get to know her as a person. It was not easy. She has a wonderful hour glass shape, much like the Venus of Willendorf I love to rant about so much. I told her about this, and of course, she had seen one of those statues a long time ago and remarked how much her body resembled it.
I told her that as a “fat woman”, she had an appeal that remarkably few “fat women” have. I have this whole obsession with the way that those Venus statues have that shape for a reason. That shape is extremely powerful, visually stimulating, and highly distracting. Even guys who don’t think they have any interest in “fat chicks” could easily get tripped up while under the spell of the “involuntary stare reflex”. The sight of such proportions has to be visually stimulating to more people than most people think, because I knew that the first woman I found with this shape would be noticed instantly once she had a web site.
It would appear that my new found friend had suffered the kind of sex drive that one might imagine could come with such a powerful figure. She never could figure out why she thought of herself as ugly because she was “too big”, yet guys hit on her mercilessly. She had impulse control issues, so she would give in, and then feel shame and guilt over it later. Once I got to know that much about her, it was easy to resist her occasional sexual comment out of respect to her as a person, and the trouble she had gone through with such a condition.
We helped each other somehow, and neither one of us got what our fantasies really would have wanted from the situation. I know that both of us really wanted to fuck each other badly, and in the back of my mind, I would involuntarily be working out a way for that to potentially happen “one day”.
One day could not come soon enough though, because the second the woman talked to Candy, she started to kind of hit on her as if she was a guy. Candy is no stranger to that kind of attention, and she resisted any sexual response. That actually offended the woman, because she had not hit on a woman in over a decade, and now she was rejected.
It’s sad, that the one time that Candy got her hopes up to meet someone that could be a new friend since October of last year, and the woman starts acting like a guy that wants to “hit that”. Candy could forgive this, but because the woman allegedly felt so ashamed, she had to call off a meeting that would have been planned just days later. She deleted her email account and her personal ad, but within 24 hours I found her replacement, visited it, and she was already writing me back.
I was disappointed, because here I was, sobering up so that I could focus and concentrate hard enough to “make something happen” after almost a decade of self isolation. The first visit would have been set up with no expectations of any physical contact at all. We were all trying to act like responsible adults, and meet as friends, get to know each other, and see what happens over time. It would have been awesome for a first visit to be completely non sexual, for the sake of Candy getting to know a fraction about this woman that I already learned.
Part of the reason I was so fascinated with getting these two women together was because of their personalities, not because I wanted to see them awkwardly attempt some kind of super sized lesbian encounter. I really wanted to see the energy exchanged between two women who held the same power, and suffered from some of the exact same consequences, over some periods of time that are literally just a few years off in age from each other.
They had the same trauma, the same issues, and the same heightened sexuality as a result of being stimulated for the first time in a highly inappropriate situation at an age that would create conflicting feelings about an event that should never have happened to them. I called it “sexually advanced”, because even though it was a result of trauma and abuse, it still happened to them, maybe because they held this power of attraction their whole lives, and a few weak souls who were wrongly given opportunity took advantage of it in the worst way possible. They would also be conflicted about their abuse, because at times, thoughts of it would feel just as stimulating and erotic to them as it felt wrong and traumatic.
Because I spent so much brain power figuring this woman out, and predicting exactly what was going to happen, I was finally inspired in two ways. First, to break the cycle that I placed myself in with alcohol. I didn’t really want to see it as a loop, because when you are in one, it is very difficult to WANT to see you are in one. If an individual is escaping reality to begin with, time is unfortunately a part of that very reality. Second, because of her insight, I could see myself from Candy’s eyes, as I tried not to get drunk so I could type properly to her.
The loop is easily established because humans are creatures of habit. We want regularity, schedule, and self discipline. Alcohol can over-ride the impulse to create order, and the anxiety that is in place to keep us on our toes in a very brutal reality. While alcohol seems wonderful and magical in wiping out anxiety, it seems to work a little too well on people with my specific condition, so far undiagnosed professionally.
While alcohol is kicking ass on anxiety, it is also taking away ambition, drive, motivation, inspiration, dedication, devotion, discipline, control, and vision. It takes away the ability to see what it is doing to yourself. I am very skilled at abusing things, because I got to the point where I could drink the cheapest and nastiest beer I can find at room temp, to avoid making trips to the fridge that Candy could hear, each one bringing her deeper into a level of potential conflict.
Maybe I needed to “sneak around”, and because I devoted myself to Candy, beer was the last great frontier of taboo behavior. I don’t crave the substance itself, I crave the altered head space. I enjoy the personality that comes out in the early phases of alcohol intoxication, but that is already an alter ego, who will gladly break all limitations that sober me put on myself.
I kept trying to fool myself into thinking that I could get a 12 pack, and not wipe more than half of it out. I thought I could stop at 6, saving another 6 for another day, and not even the very next day. That got fucked up though. I started getting a 12 pack, almost finishing it, feeling like crap the next day. Then, I might not drink that day, or, I might finish off the 2 or 3 left, get a little buzz, and get way too tempted to get another 12 pack and start over. That was progression. I wanted to keep using it so badly that I was fooling myself into believing that I was trying to control intake, when the drug was controlling me.
All this started because I placed a few personal ads, not because I thought the grass was greener, but quite the opposite. I created the ads to return to a mind space where Candy was gone for those 8 months. I could probably feel her disappointment and resentment over my losing control of the beer, when she only came back because I agreed to give up vodka.
From the moment I created the first ad, I could see the exact same patterns in the women that would appear available in my age group. It appeared that the few I would be attracted to went to a great deal of trouble to explain how unavailable they were, which meant they had baggage, which meant they were self conflicted, which meant they could be highly sexual.
Yeah, I am way beyond the “fat chicks are easy” thing. I know better. Fat chicks are actually harder, unless you know how to pick them. 🙂
I spent so much time wondering if I was conflicted about my real agenda in creating the personal ads, because obviously I have a very active imagination, which is something else the alcohol was killing. It was also pulling my sex drive down just a little bit. Not too much though, because even though Candy doesn’t want to have sex with a drunk guy, the drunk guy has literally worn her pussy out.
I have to point out, that I was compelled almost involuntarily to write here, after months of no activity. That gap in time between now and the last blog post is probably the length of time that I was falling down the alcohol spiral of non motivation, and I just allowed it to continue.
Maybe it was actually painful for me to use my brain for a while. When I am sober, I can tell I will be one of those hyper thinking former alcoholic types, because the abuse of alcohol was partially attributed to racing thoughts and high mental energy.
The effort I invested in getting to know this woman on a deeper level than just a few random fucks behind someone else’s back was invaluable. The perspective is something I could not obtain from a shrink I could not afford. Even though she dumped me, technically, even as just “friends”, I could only be disappointed for a little while because she granted me with something that I never would have had if I had not virtually met her online.
So few women have such a sexy shape, and even fewer have the intuition to show it off in full length body photos instead of hiding it away out of frame in endless face photos.
She was naturally going to get an avalanche of response, because that’s what she needed to build her confidence, because of a non existent, failing movement known as “size acceptance”.
Right here in Las Vegas, where there is “bbw shit” going on every other week, there are literally tons of beautiful, sexy, intelligent, amazing fat women who will never even know about it, much less have a desire to expose themselves to the kind of social pecking order that must exist in those types of environments.
Candy isolated herself once she hit a certain size because she was smaller herself once, and she always felt sorry for women that look like she does now. She can’t go out, even with a group of allegedly like minded “fellow fatties”, because she will project the judgement and shame of her size on every person she meets, even if that was the last thing on their minds.
She is embarrassed and humiliated, to the point where she imagines that some repeated invitations to meet out at some bar with some group were just to ridicule how fat she had gotten. Yes, if you were not aware, fat women do ridicule other fat women because of their size differences. 🙁 THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SIZE ACCEPTANCE. It costs the diet industry TOO MUCH FUCKING MONEY. It is much better to make fat people hate themselves, because you can make more money on drugs, surgery, and “treatment centers” that shoot people up with God knows what.
Because Candy hasn’t wanted to go out to bars to meet entire groups of strangers all at once, she has felt a sense of rejection that all attention directed to her seems to have something to do with enticing her into doing exactly what she doesn’t want to do. These strange people have no idea of how humiliating it is to her to be asked to go somewhere, and when she declines, that’s pretty much the end of interest in her. We have been in Las Vegas for almost 2 years, and no model has ever appeared with Candy Godiva in that time.
It’s no skin off my teeth, I am perfectly grateful and content just to work with her and only her for the rest of my life. I just thought it was very ironic that in a city that is allegedly buzzing with bbw activity, there is at least one SSBBW who did get left behind.
I guess I drifted just a little, which means I have to wrap this up, because I have shit to do, and now I have to re-read all of this! It is easy to see why alcohol has been so tempting for me. My mind really works like this. I think like this. It is sometimes difficult for me to stay on track with just one subject, because I see connections that always lead so very far away. I am still trying to figure out how to exploit this talent to my advantage, and it’s not even about money, because obviously I am not too concerned with that. What irony, I live in Vegas, where everybody is trying to screw everybody else over, and I don’t give a fuck about money anymore.
Wow, what an observation. I am not on alcohol either. I have often said on facebook that I think I get even weirder off of alcohol, because there is some part of me that I have pushed down for so very long that I have to get used to being that person all over again.
Part of the person I used to be, was a model recruiter. Even if I don’t give two shits if I find a single model in this awful, God forsaken place, I will at least try. It has helped me to overcome another compulsion that was hurting me and my relationship. The grass is not greener. Another good reason for creating personal ads was to see all of the trauma and human debris that has been discarded for decades, sometimes for very good reason.
I wanted to see the horror and disappointment I would be faced with, having such a specific preference, being so very old, and knowing that I am actually “picky” even though I am attracted to the type of women most guys claim they could never be attracted to, but jerk off to secretly, thanks to me, and my super morbidly obese porn.
Yeah, it is going to take some getting used to, this part of me that I was literally drowning in ice beer. It is only just coming to the surface, and I have placed personal ads at ok cupid, fet life, plenty of fish, saucydates, connectingsingles, myfreepersonals, and datehookup. I have openly admitted to being in a relationship (where they even allow), and my only ambition there is to make new friends.
I may have fantasies, and one day a few of them may actually come true. They don’t rule me though, and I am living with an ultimate fantasy that I never thought I would see again when she left the last time. I was driving her away again, because I wanted to escape my isolation into a secondary alcohol induced isolation.
I believe that I wanted to take control of my decision to isolate myself, as painful as it may have been, by sinking into a state where I had to isolate myself from Candy for the periods of time that I was drinking too heavily. That probably makes absolutely no sense.
By creating all of this attempt to be social (and no, facebook isn’t social, it’s fucking fake social), I was able to find just one person who actually read most of my ranting instead of ignoring it. Unfortunately, I did not mean to create feelings in her that would have caused her to need to reject the friendship, but I hope I was able to teach her that she can find a guy that is just as interested in what’s in her head as he is about her massive, ginormous cup size…
I had my own fantasies of course, and Candy had to know it, as I awkwardly attempted to lure the sexiest woman I found locally on ok cupid right into the apartment to meet with us as purely friends with no expectations.
If I was so fumbling and awkward this time, I have learned. Candy knows that I will not be isolated any longer, and she also knows that as I set a better example for her by not drinking at all, I expect more out of her in facing her fears too.
I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to, but just for a few days, Candy wanted to meet this fucking woman. The one thing that kind of pisses me off is that this woman hurt Candy more than me, because Candy never even saw this shit coming. She is talking to a woman about meeting up on sunday just to talk at first. Then she is being told that she is too sexy and she will cause this woman to embarrass herself if she makes a move that she allegedly could not help herself from making, because she wanted to fuck both of us that bad, and she could not be patient… 🙁
I wasn’t even trying to fuck the woman from the first damn visit, but in my extreme self examination with her, she got pulled into something that was way too deep for her to handle. It would surprise you to know that she has a career in a field where she has to work with people.
I know it’s in the back of Candy’s mind, that some day, maybe… As long as I am not the horny, pushy, sleazy guy who is pushing hard or forcing her into it. No, I am making new friends… What happens from there is up to her. If i get a raging boner I do have 2 wonderful holes and a multitude of fat creases to use to relieve that condition, that happened to be owned by a woman I really never thought I would still be with, much less living in Las Vegas with, and defeating alcoholism with.
I did slip just the other day, when this woman broke up with “us” before ever meeting “us”. I was disappointed that I caused Candy disappointment, because I knew I was never going to be smooth enough to pull off what I probably was trying to pull off in the back of my mind.
I hate to say that there is an equal exchange thing going on, but Candy hated drunk me. She knows that drunk me is a manifestation of my issues with abandonment, anxiety, insecurity, and isolation. She knows I can’t isolate myself, which is why she actively participates in my attempts to make new friends, even if she has serious anxiety about it, because she knows what I am capable of when I am not drinking…
I know I will probably still drink occasionally, but I will see it as a “slip” and not a “habit”. By habituating the regular use of beer, I was making it a part of a loop that caused me to allow everything I care about to decay and atrophy. I know that Candy is aware that there is a great energy shift going on, because if I even raise my voice while talking to her at this point, she has to say “energy!”, to remind me that I am psychically impacting her.
Oh, that’s another thing. I had totally been downplaying the psychic thing because it’s something I like to think about, and fantasize about having, but I am endlessly frustrated by the way it always happens in a way that looks like coincidence instead of intuition. I like to imagine that I use calculation to determine the future from using data of the past and present. I have to imagine that occasionally, there is a calculation that is just too close to call, so maybe there is actually something to the small nudge that some kind of inner intuition can create.
Alcohol was also destroying intuition, because it interfered with an ability to calculate probability, and visualize consequence. Visualization was also highly distorted. All of this shit feels really awesome when you are “drunk”, but if I get drunk as often as every other day, the residual effects that alcohol has will still continue to influence me even when I appear to be sober. Damn my studies in neurology! I have to go!
I wanted to write, the last post being created from a perspective that had not yet completed a specific objective which required multiple prerequisites. The stress of that upcoming change, decision, or action caused ripples in the time before it, extending months. The planning that had gone into it was set into motion years before that.
I signed in, signed up, and shopped for my plan. The plan would be free, but I didn’t quite know it at the moment before taking the actions. I had employed some type of psychic accounting in order to prevent liability, but I had taken it to such an extreme and I probably did not need to.
A moment here or there, sober or intoxicated, taking a peek at subsidy calculators and the current table of poverty guidelines issued by the same people that think one can live on 700 a month. I could have worked it out much more skillfully, but some frantic, manic, procrastinating, lazy fool chose to take over for a bit instead.
I still haven’t done the research, but a part of me even chose a specific number as an income target. It wasn’t very well thought out, except some simple math showed that I would have to make one amount in order to maintain bills, maybe save a little, and still have the reserve capacity to make big payments in order to sustain a business model that even I believe is unsustainable.
It takes money to make money. Even if I had a crazy plan to make as little as possible and still keep everything going as if nothing was wrong, there would still be times when I know I would have to come up with 500, 750, maybe even a cool grand at different points in the future. As it stands, there are only two main expenses to my entire business model. Hosting and payment processing.
Without having to file a thousand little receipts I can just pop out those two and the rest is small change. I just don’t spend money. On very much at all. Ever. Sure, a few bad habits have somehow slipped through the cracks. Cheap cigarettes in the hopes I’ll quit, cheap beer because I don’t drink it for the taste. A 22 year old vehicle that I somehow prevent from completely disintegrating before my eyes, and a body that insists on working without intervention from a cruel and malevolent medical complex.
I don’t spend money with some ignorant assumption that I’ll just “write it off”, because when the predicted income level is below a certain point, there is not going to be very much cash to throw around in the hopes of “writing it off”. In other words, if you know you aren’t going to make a specific amount by purchasing any product from the use of that product, the purchase isn’t a write off, it’s a loss.
Maybe my past experience of getting burned in Orlando by that mystical creature Alexis did more help than harm in the long count calendar after all. I mistakenly trusted her to access my credit, thus destroying my credit for that 7 year waiting period for everything to just disappear from the credit report. During those 7 years, one can become quite disciplined in not depending on other people’s money to maintain regular expenses or splurge on what I like to call “stupid shit”.
All those years of avoiding collection efforts, waiting for time to pass, and finding rental accommodations that did not depend on excellent credit really taught me some valuable lessons. To this day, I couldn’t get unsecured credit if I tried, and I have made it that way on purpose. I didn’t use any identity protection “service”, I simply made sure that while my score is actually considered “good”, I do not meet at least one of the criteria for being easily granted credit. I also monitor it myself with an alternate service that is free, except of course for all the ads that are actually paying for it.
There was a built in incentive to be super cheap when you know that the money you have stashed is all you can depend on, and there will be no “safety net” because the credit done run dry and the parents are dead, well, one of them. It provides quite an incentive to view money as “time” instead of seeing it as all the shit you have been told you need on television.
When I went through my last severe depression, I was prepared to release all possessions and live on the street for a while, just as an experiment. I was impressed and disappointed with myself at the same time as I got the job that prevented homelessness at the last minute. I was impressed because I didn’t think I could really pull it off, but I was disappointed because by getting that job, I was abandoning my “plan B”. I didn’t have the balls to be homeless.
I was too selfish to let go of everything I had created and maintained online, even though, being homeless didn’t mean being “host-less”. I could still have existed comfortably on the digital plane even as I was sleeping in a 20 year old van. Hosting is just over $50 a month, rent was $450. I was ready to trade down and allow my physical self to exist in limbo in order to maintain my digital presence for as long as possible. I didn’t have the balls to go through with it. Getting a job, making some cash the old fashioned way, was actually easier for me than just being a lazy fuck and panhandling until I got disability.
It didn’t help that shortly after Candy’s first departure, I made a friend in a guy named Mark. He was 59, and he had been homeless for about a year after coming to Baton Rouge from Chicago. I met him the day after he moved in to an apartment upstairs, just after getting his back payment from social security. This was probably in the second week after Candy left. I would need to review the video footage to make sure, but I don’t think I started making little videos with him until after a month.
He was very abrasive, demanding, insulting, intolerant, somewhat racist, homophobic, unpredictable, unstable, alcoholic, and addicted to Tramadol. He was a real Archie Bunker type, but add the severe alcoholism and drug abuse. I was at a very low point, and I don’t think he saw me for more than an hour of any day sober. The times he would see me sober were when he nagged at me to drive him somewhere after waking me up by phone or knock on the door to wake me up before I could start pounding vodka. Even then, I had to constantly resist the urge to down beers with him that I told him not to open before we would even return “home”.
He shared quite a bit of information about exactly how to “be homeless”, survive, even thrive. The information was geographically specific because he had spent the prior year learning these things right in my own backyard. If I saw him on the street at some point before really meeting him, which I very well could have, I would have refused to acknowledge him, while being aware of his presence just in case he pulled some shit on me. I have a sneaky suspicion that I had seen him too, because he was familiar, and I would have faded memories of those times when I ran some errand and had to avoid “those people”.
Even with his encouragement, and offer of limited support in this venture, I couldn’t go through with it. The alternative was to cut my hair, shave, bathe for once, and wait to start drinking until AFTER I went to at least 3 places in person to drop off a resume and fill out an application, if they even fucking let me. Instead of basing my search at the time on typical want ads, I created ever widening spheres of physical distance I would have to travel for each “zone” where I applied. The closest places weren’t interested at all, but things started looking up when I hit about 3 miles out…
That decision changed a whole lot of future shit. It changed where I live right now, how much cash I have, what computer I’m using, if I still owned that van, and in a way, it has changed who I actually am, “right now”. This changes over time, I know, but that was one of those pivotal moments when I had a distinct choice about how to proceed, and the choice I made led to a future that I am more than satisfied with.
My decision to occasionally rant and rave about this and that over the course of the last six months may have been an indirect effect of the pressure and stress brought about by my fear of missing another mark. Doing it all wrong. My occasional visit with my sometimes evil, insensitive, alcohol induced alter ego hasn’t helped very much. I was in such a panic over having to pay some crazy new monthly bill, that I somehow created a plan that I don’t think I allowed myself to be fully aware of at the time.
I picked a number, and I was so very amazed to see that it was less than $100 off from what I was “hoping for”. I know that the number itself would not inspire very much celebration to a lot of people, because it is a very low number. I am astounded that I am able to maintain the reserve that I have while working at such a low margin for almost an entire year. I know I was sabotaging myself here and there when it came to making money. I could have encouraged someone to get off their *ss and help me out a little more often. I could have taken the massive reserve of unused content and add it to two websites that have not been updated in over two years now.
I didn’t do any of that though. I got lazy. I wonder even now just how much of it was intentional, and how much of it was following along with a plan that I created when I was too intoxicated to even remember it on a conscious level. I never even bothered to do more research to find a much more exact number, or even a slightly higher number that would have still created the same result. Full subsidized healthcare.
I may have created all of this knowing that as a regular earner of one amount, I will be penalized by a lack of subsidies in such a way that would probably not seem fair or proportionate to whatever financial pain I may perceive as an individual who has lived, saved, and been very comfortable with an income level considered “%100 poverty”. I haven’t really worked out the math, but a part of me glanced over at the federal table of poverty level income at one point and I realized that I might not have gotten much of a subsidy at all if I had made as little as 5K more that same year. In fact, my worry was that making one dollar more than some cut off amount would lead to me making one higher amount, and then being forced to pay out so much over the course of a year that I still end up at poverty level income anyway.
If I have to just give it all to them, why even try to make more than a certain amount? It was difficult to even try writing that out without using specific numbers in an example, because I didn’t do the fucking math myself. I just kind of guessed that there would be some kind of steep cut off for subsidies way too low to be realistic or reasonable. So, I went for a target income, when considering expenses, would end up at a point where I do not exceed the federal standard for %100 poverty level by more than 1K.
That was a crazy sounding plan, I know, it seems crazy as I type it. It was convenient that I worked that one full time job the year before last, and I noticed, that without the W-2 from that job, the desired target income was not that much more. It seems even more crazy to me that I would have a serious anxiety about making “too much” money. I should have been adding it up with each statement all through the year, but I was just making general estimations based on quick glances at deposits.
Now, I’m “here”. I enrolled by the deadline. I almost didn’t, because the state exchange that I used was going bat shit crazy on sunday night, and I just kind of gave up because I knew monday was the deadline. I am talking about a state exchange, not the feds. The feds site is such a piece of shit that they keep extending the deadline for them… Nope, my state has an exchange, and the site almost fucked me over because I had to do this big complex application, but the site shit out before I could put my “free” medicaid plan into some arbitrary fucking shopping cart. That shopping cart shit almost fucked me out of enrolling in time, which would have cost me an additional $95 as a “mandate tax”.
I was lucky that I felt compelled to “double check” and go back to the site on the day of the actual deadline, because while the site did say I had “enrolled”, it still forced me to do the shopping cart step, threatening me with potential non enrollment, even though I “digitally signed” this big ass document that took at least 20 minutes to fucking fill out. I came up with the term “entrolled”, because I thought I was enrolled but because that shit is already more fucking complex than taxes, it is almost impossible sometimes to know for sure.
I shouldn’t complain, but it was stressful. It fucked up this whole tax season procrastination thing I had going. I would have made estimated payments through the year based on estimations, but I never knew just how close my fucking estimation would be to what I ended up with. I didn’t know until I was forced to do all the fucking work of filing my taxes without actually filling out the fucking web form…
I would have procrastinated to do all that shit until at least march, but now I have already been forced to do it, I have all the numbers, and as long as I don’t have a deposit or buy any business related shit, I was ready to do fucking taxes before fucking christmas. That is fucking bogus. Oh well, it’s done. I was also super thorough and honest in giving my future psychic prediction of exactly to the penny what I will be making in 2014 too.
I have always thought it was amazing that psychic accounting will soon become a regular term in our vocabulary, because according to the form I filled out at the state exchange I used, I have to honestly predict my income for next year under threat of fraud and perjury. It’s bad enough I had to do my fucking taxes before christmas, now the assholes are going to threaten me to psychically call to the dead and ask exactly how much my fat porn is going to make next fucking year.
Wow, mood change there! I can bitch and complain about having to figure out taxes to the penny months early, but it is a genuine “first world problem” isn’t it? I mean, the alternate me, on a timeline where I never got that job, would probably not be too worried about being hit up for a mandate tax that he would not have to pay because he would not have an income to pay taxes on. Although, I am curious about the details of that potential alternate reality, like, would I still be liable for a mandate tax even though I did not meet the minimum filing threshold of income. Maybe I didn’t do more research on that detail because I didn’t really want to know, or I just don’t give a fuck because it is so detached from the future that ended up taking place.
Either way, here we are. I am not homeless, and I somehow tricked Candy into coming back willingly. 🙂 I have endured the year 2013 with a local move, and the first year payment to process visa on the websites. That was a lump payment of 750 right there. It does take money to make money indeed. All the while, I was making less than $1000 over what my government declares %100 poverty level. I keep typing that phrase out, because after enduring the alleged hardship of making that income, I still have money in the bank. Am I “poor” because of my income alone when I am still “comfortable” and actually have “savings”?
In fact, I seem to have everything I want and need, and the only pressing things I still really want are not going to cost any money. If one of my final goals is to get a specific certification, it is up to me to make it happen. Money is not an obstacle to education because I would find a cheap way to have someone else pay for it without going into debt. If I want to gain yet another type of certification that I don’t want to get into, there are very defined steps for me to obtain that “license”, and because of the very thing I have been complaining about, I may now start a process that will not even cost anything. I will finally have a “doctor”. That could be scary, because Mark taught me some stuff about handling medicaid doctors too… 🙂
This latest experiment in living just over poverty level has been educational, not only in showing me that I could do it, but also in changing my perception of poverty in general. It is ironic that I chose to sit down and write on christmas day itself, a day which represents a loop of disappointment, resulting charity, disappointment, repeat. As a I phase out and watch local news, a part of me would be involuntarily touched for a moment by the generous act of a charity group handing out toys to poor children.
After a moment, I would realize, that I was just afflicted on a subconscious level by a phenomenon that has been created as a direct result of corporate capitalism and blind consumerism. In other words, if christmas did not exist to begin with, poor children would not be denied that specific positive event, created to raise the bottom line of retailers across the board. There is a desire, as a human, to allow myself to just flow with this feeling of charitable propaganda, because I want to feel for the children, to see them happy. The logical side of my reasoning has to ruin the party though, because I am quickly reminded that this entire system has been created out of a new type of greed and sophisticated marketing and propaganda.
I don’t need all the shit on television, I don’t need this or that specific thing, I have not created a ritual involving this or that over priced “treat”. I have a very short list of very specific things that I would choose to have in my life, but I would let go of those things with little bitterness if my hand was forced and shit got out of control. For example, there does exist a price point where I would say “fuck this, I quit smoking!” While it seems like beer is going up and up, I am fortunate that my prior experimentation has not left me physically dependent, so even if I still enjoy psychological exploration of my intoxicated alter ego, it is not a daily habit, and a habit that can be scaled back to such infrequency that I would begin to miss it altogether, if all the assholes that sold beer passed some price point that I am not quite sure about this second.
The only thing I can’t do without is a person, and I lost her before, over and over. There is no amount of money that could keep her, or lose her. There is only my bad choices that could lose her. I am lucky that one of the only bad choices I have even been tempted by was alcohol, and I am very fortunate that she was able to make a compromise to allow occasional use of a lesser source of this chemical. Trade down from vodka to beer, and attempt to restrict intake to a point that leaves me much less intoxicated than I used to get on vodka. Every once in a while, there is a breach in my own security, and a part of my own self attempt so live dangerously and push my limits. Both with myself, and with her.
I know it is wrong, I know I don’t need it. I know I would always choose her over it. I guess that is where the term “guilty pleasure” comes from. There is a part of me that argues “I’m a grown man, if I want to get really fucked up on some ice beer now and then just cut me some slack!”. It is not that simple though, not nearly. It never is. Compromise is a very delicate and complex thing. Both sides have to give. I am grateful she has bent to the degree that she has, and while there has been one dented wall incident from a thrown mug (not at me thank god), she has shown remarkable restraint when I have chosen to take my ice beer intake one can over the line.
I can’t make excuses, I can’t even really talk to her about it, because it makes her too uncomfortable. I have to assume that I am “alcoholic”, even if I don’t feel like I am. Even if I don’t crave alcohol intoxication every day, or every other day, or I let it slip for 3 or 4 days so my resistance is super low, I still seem to thoroughly enjoy the initial intoxication, and once afflicted, I am driven to push further and further. I think that is called “binge drinking”, but it is nowhere near as severe as my little relationship with vodka was.
I still “use and abuse” alcohol, like some kind of explicit street drug. I deny myself for days, sometimes really just “forgetting to drink”, sometimes getting it while out, knowing that I won’t be running errands for nearly a week and I want to take a little trip to fuzzy reality land just once before I have to go out again. I can’t purchase a “30 pack” because at some point I might allow myself to consume more than 12. If I get a 12 pack, I have to put 6 in the cooler and give Candy the other 6, or I will most probably get up to 10, maybe opening number 11 but not being able to finish it, leaving a sorry sight of 1.5 beer total the day after I got a fucking 12 pack. I could have gotten loaded twice, but instead, 5 beer me said “fuck that shit I want to get fucked up!”
It is hard to figure all this shit out at times, if it’s not one thing it’s another. I felt like writing for a bit, and I came up with the title complexity before I knew for sure i wanted to write about. I didn’t even get into some stuff I was thinking about when I first started, like trying harder to apologize for all my ranting and raving about weight loss surgery. I thought that subject was limited to drunk me being stupid, but it appears that frustrated sober me before mandate compliance was using distraction and misdirection yet again.
If I seem so skilled at tricking myself into this or that behavior, I have come to another theory, about how I may be able to re-align my thinking and goal orientation in such a way where I actually “forget to drink”, or even better, procrastinate from drinking. That’s a thought. I was using alcohol while I was committing the act of procrastination, but maybe, I can turn some shit around so that I am literally too busy with some other shit I would rather be doing to be tempted to take a trip to that place where I hang out with a part of myself that I hate but am fascinated with at the same time.
I wondered myself why I would feel compelled to hyper post all over facebook when intoxicated on alcohol. I would ask myself “who am I talking to?” I think I might kind of be talking to myself there. I have reached some point where I only get loaded about twice a week, the second time is not as severe as the first because I am still dreading the last time. This last time I did it, I noticed something about it that was already turning into a habit, a game that I was playing with myself that I wasn’t fully aware of as I was doing it.
Within 2 days after one of these binges and facebook rants, I would slowly begin to remember things that I would have typed, as well as music and news articles I may have posted. If I posted photos, those will come back to me later too. One of the reasons I avoid facebook after a drunken rant session could be related to this fuzzy memory game I have been playing that I didn’t “remember”. When I use terms like distraction, misdirection, and even regression I might be minimizing the actual phenomenon.
What started out as using alcohol for escapism and avoiding reality has definitely evolved into something else. It is still not habit, it’s not every day, I don’t consume alternate substances not meant for consumption that contain alcohol, and if there was just one beer in the fridge it would not be appealing to me in the least unless I went out and picked up a sufficient amount to “peak”.
It is kind of ironic, that I will take on the responsibility of having a problem with alcohol, but at the same time, I am forced to reconcile with the fact that occasional alcohol intoxication would be acceptable, if it was mild and I didn’t have to push it to the point where I am starting to have trouble walking and typing. Even worse, it would not be so bad if there were not a part of myself that has a limit, but it is a very very high limit. I noticed that I stopped taking diphenhydramine to enhance alcohol altogether, because I literally can’t type at a much lower level of alcohol consumption.
I realize that this problem would not even be as “bad” or unacceptable if it wasn’t compounded by the past trauma and experience of my partner, who resents that fact that she can’t keep multiple forms of alcohol to make cocktails with because I might raid it. She is ok with alcohol consumption, but not alcohol binging. That is very ironic, because she occasionally enjoys a food binge. We have had to fight against co-enabling by making very distinct compromises. The complexity of love… 🙂
I am running out of steam, I don’t know how or why I got over 4500 words, but hey, I won’t be drinking. Not tonight. 🙂
I haven’t written here in a while, and as usual, I am procrastinating. Because I have been trying to be more creative, and less wasteful of the precious resource of time that I am lucky enough to be given here, I am trying to switch out bad habits for better ones. Instead of waiting until all of the overblown hype of the new year’s holiday, I realize that the best time to make small changes is now, not later.
I don’t have a lot of time, as usual, the combination of waiting errands and previous procrastination are finally catching up with me. The end of the year provides new deadlines, this year. I don’t believe I have adequate time or patience right now to get into the full extent of why I have been so frustrated with these changes.
It started with little things, like the new definition of obesity, and then the use of BMI to generate a blanket of obesity, or a flat rate of obesity. This added millions of new people to the category of obese, and news stories at the time reflected on how some people who are considered obese under the new system were actually very muscular. I think I probably see it coming, where those little things are going to add up to some much larger inconveniences later on down the line, when combined with the changes coming this very next year.
When I created obesiverse, there was a frustration with society’s blind acceptance of weight loss surgery as an alleged cure for obesity. I was growing more and more concerned with the way that people in general were starting to accept surgery as a standard course of action for anyone and everyone who was too fat to be pleasant to look at. Even those who rally for “size acceptance” would be forced to accept this new gold standard of personal responsibility. Forums, groups, and even social organizations would be forced through political correctness and involuntary linkage to warmly accept and even support anyone’s decision to endure this life and body changing process.
It is difficult for me to eloquently describe my personal feelings of disappointment as this process started to take shape. It started for me with Carnie Wilson, who marched with ‘naafa’ one year, and then opted to get weight loss surgery “on the internet” just a few years later. She would go on tour of the states, pitching this life changing miracle, even hitting my neck of the woods at one point. I would go to see her, and I would feel emotionally traumatized as I watched her on stage, mocking the people she marched with at the very event most of the people listening knew nothing about. She huffed and puffed in between shouting the words “fat and proud”, laughing out loud about “how ridiculous we all know that shit really is”.
Fast forward years into the future, and here comes facebook. The obesity obsessed sub culture that was once hidden away in forums with weird names was now thrust out into the mainstream, along with each and every other suddenly acceptable “sexual preference” under the sun. In the process, what used to be just one central obese social group splintered off into several. The irony in this, is that some of the legends of obese porn and erotica that once provided examples of super sized sex appeal looked different now.
They had become “thin”, or kind of close to it. They had fallen for the sub conscious sales pitch of seeing others finding their inner skinny chick and they themselves took the plunge. Because they were so much more active and consumed with something, anything to replace binge eating, they took their notoriety and invested it in creating obese social groups of their own.
I would try, very hard, to accept this inevitable trend and do my best to just ignore it. At first, I almost tried to jump into at least one ‘group’ because it just happened to be a group that meets in the city I happen to live in. I guess it was just “convenient”, and “why not?” Well, now I know why not. A part of me can’t get past the fact that there are people who don’t want to, but who will act as walking, talking billboards for a procedure that I still regard as experimental and cruel. While some people do have success with surgery, I don’t have to go over all of the past events of failure, like Carnie Wilson herself, who is currently involved in yet another publicity scheme to get her second weight loss surgery after post surgical refatting.
I don’t have to, but feel compelled to go into the 1-800-get-thin scandal, where the manufacturer of lap band cut off an entire group of physicians after the clinic they operated out of killed half a dozen people in the course of a few months. I don’t have to, but I would also want to point out that the manufacturer of lap band, allergan, has just successfully sold the entire obesity division to another surgical group, because the newness of the fad had worn off and the company wasn’t meeting projected profits… The whole 1-800-get-dead thing put a little kink in that “safer than last surgery” claim.
So, I realize that as I know all of this, and it seems to effect me on a level that makes it impossible for me to let myself get drunk and rant on facebook about it because I just get mean and belligerent. I will always see the surgery as unacceptable on a personal level, and I can’t just change that because it is politically correct to do so, or because the size acceptance sub culture warmly embraced it to a point where they include bariatric support within their networks. I can’t even participate in online groups or forums having anything to do with bbw events or obesity in general because if I get drunk enough, I am going to rant to such a degree that Candy is even more ashamed to have made the decision to come back than she probably already is deep down.
I will always see tragedy and irony in formerly fat size acceptance activists. I see it as ultimate surrender, with a touch of hypocrisy. I am supposed to be happy for someone that their life is better, that they are more healthy, but are they? Are they going to stick around for a decade or so, subconsciously encouraging countless other obese people to make this same decision as they aggressively sell their interpretation of “size acceptance”?
I remember way back in my late 20’s, when my initial exploration into the internet as an openly unashamed fat admirer, or sexual dimorphist, made finding plus to super sized women who wanted to “review sexual compatibility” much easier. First, it was easier to find larger women locally with the internet. I had the misfortune of not having cellphones or internet in my early 20’s, so by the time the internet came along, it was awesome that I would not have to spend hours as some kind of “fatty predator”, skulking around malls, supermarkets, shopping centers, flea markets, god forbid bars, and sometimes support groups… At some point I even placed one of those print ads in a weekly free paper. I wish there would have been digital photography back then! You would not believe just how bad the candidates were from the print ad…
The one thing I didn’t let myself get hooked by was obese specific social groups like naafa who held these huge giant fat parties way too far away to make them very appealing to me. I was lucky to live close to New Orleans, so I already had access to the occasional fatty tourist who wanted to get freaky on her vacation. I didn’t need to spend all kinds of cash on the traveling route to hunt fish in a barrel when just being under 40, thin, not too ugly, and open about the fat preference was already kind of like shooting fish in a barrel on a local level…
I always found it amusing, how many personal ads from women say “no booty calls”, but when they decide to put out because they are on vacation, it is basically the same thing. When a woman emailed me to say she was coming to my area and wanted to get together, I always had to wonder why she could not find a guy just like me wherever she was from. I realize now that distance actually adds to the allure for this type of woman, or guy. I always personally preferred having the option for future banging if I was compatible with someone I just risked my very life having sex with… 🙂 Yeah, growing up in the shadow of AIDS must have had some effect too… 🙂
In avoiding the sales pitches of a mutitude of bbw events, I did envy the occasional exposure to the “big players”, as an armature obesity photographer who always wanted to create sexually explicit obese specific imagery as my own personal protest against the fake, hypocritical, and two faced non sexual view of obese women. A fat friend with benefits once told me, “Fat chicks are like mopeds. Everybody wants to ride one but nobody wants to be seen on one.” I created content including myself in it to fight against this phenomenon on a personal level. I was just lucky I could make a few dollars in the process to sustain, encourage, and continue this work.
The formerly fat friend with benefits who said that memorable moped quote ended up having weight loss surgery too eventually. When Candy was gone, she came by once, after aggressively asking me about coming over to “get some”. Women seem to get really horny after losing some weight, and studies have attributed it to new found confidence. Wow… So they have to get fat and then lose weight to be easy, not just be fat and easy… Then, of course, they have to cling on to the fat admirers they know, because if the fat admirer was able to get it up when they were fat, the fat admirer should have no problem fucking a deflated balloon.
I find that personally insulting… I managed to perform, but it was not easy, because she no longer resembled who she was in the least. Of course she also had to be top heavy too. When she was bigger, at least her thighs filled out enough to match her breasts. When she lost weight, she lost the thighs, and kept the breasts… It figured… I have seen and attempted sexual intimacy with post surgicals, and it might not be “nice” for me to say it, but it is not pretty… I did not invite her to come back a second time.
Even attempting to find someone remotely like Candy would be trying, it would be hard. It would involve physical work, a lot of rejection, a lot of self discipline, and the ability to prioritize my responsibilities on a level that would sustain not just one person, but potentially two. I would have to turn down what I thought I wanted at times in order to remain true to the long term agenda. I had to pass up potential relationships with people who were charismatic and tempting, because they would never be able to help me create something that I felt somewhere in the back of my mind already existed.
Somewhere along the line before Candy ever left, I started to slip. I started to “give up”. I let myself enjoy alcohol way too much, and the more I enjoyed it, the more I neglected and lost sight of goals that I had set years before. As I saw the numbers of lap band recipients grow into the millions, I started to realize that cash will always win over the cure. As I saw what some would consider the gold standard of size acceptance warmly embrace, support, and encourage weight loss surgery themselves, “for health”, I realized that the world might not be crazy, it might be me.
A part of me would start to wonder why I would be encouraged to create anything, because even if i could create content that would never exist, someone else will eventually create something “close”, if not much better. The obese sub culture will continue to be convoluted into this mediocre social waiting room for the inevitable surgical decision, for those who can afford to make this horrible mistake.
Those who find success, and survive long enough, will continue to herd the cattle into these temporary staging areas before the slaughter. A part of me would grow so disappointed at the knowledge of what current events inevitably lead to. I deleted such a huge part of this blog where I repeated the phrase “shrink’em or kill’em” over and over because I thought it was manic and extreme. Now I am starting to think that our technically blessed society is trying to force a decision between being surgically altered in order to conform and comply, or remain subject to persecution and acceptable public ridicule because of one’s obsessive decision to remain obese. Of course the obese know that it is not a decision, and yet again, surgery is not a cure.
Candy doesn’t like to point it out, but she doesn’t feel like a real “part” of any obese specific “group”. Candy is uncomfortable identifying herself as a part of a group based strictly on physical appearance, as I find myself now, because one could compare this social phenomenon to white supremacists racists on a much darker level. I am surprised to realize, now that I am older, that obese specific social interaction is uncomfortable for me too, as a “fat admirer”, because I am under rules in that specific social situation that would not apply if I was operating out in “regular society” on my own.
I don’t rail against lap band because I would prefer that Candy stay super morbidly obese, I am against lap band because Candy and I both know that there exists a key to unlock her compulsive eating behavior that doesn’t involve the cruelty of stitching an adjustable, modified saline fake breast around her stomach. A dangerous, complication riddled procedure to physically restrict her from eating like some kind of electric dog collar to control behavior. Candy is better than that, I know it, and I had such high hopes that millions of fat people who have already done it would have been better than that too. If they could not resist the urge to artificially slim down, I continuously wonder, why they must adhere and cling on so desperately to the obese sub culture. Then again, that should be obvious. Money is at the root of all evil. 🙂
Because there is more quick cash in slicing fat people open than there is in providing obesity specific therapy, you may never see such a comprehensive form of obesity therapy introduced. That disgusts me on a level that seems to branch out into every aspect of weight loss surgery and obesity itself. This, in turn, seems to leech out into how I am somehow deeply disturbed when I see formerly fat “post surgicals” gathering up those fatties to have a great time at a big party.
Some twisted part of me compares it to mardi gras, where people party, pig out, get drunk, and go crazy right before this religious thing kicks in and they deny themselves something they really want. All the while, the master of ceremonies is a post surgical former fatty, not even consciously realizing herself that she is a sub conscious targeted ad, and this hypothetical party organizer is subjecting all of their loyal subjects to this “potential, new, thin, you”. Another irony is that the very people who can afford to run around to obese specific events are the very individuals who can afford to “self pay” for weight loss surgery.
Maybe it gives me some little hope, that I have seen a trend in the medical community to demand cash up front for weight loss surgery. They know the dangers involved, and while they claim in television interviews that they are getting ripped off by deadbeats, a part of me suspects that they sometimes don’t get paid by dead “people“… Demanding money up front has done two things. It has severely cut down on the number of obese people who will have access to the surgery in general, and it has also insured that there will always be a never ending supply of roly poly 20 somethings who will not be able to afford it, or just think it’s gross and weird…
It is scary for me to even imagine being 20 again in the age of the internet and a downward trend among my favorite type of fatty (trailer park) to have potentially fucked herself up with surgery. It’s still quite a task finding one who hasn’t pushed out a few puppies though. 🙂 If my choices are to finally give up alcohol completely or be single again, it looks like I will be smoking more weed. If it weren’t bad enough that I have endured the nightmare of trying to force myself to fuck a post surgical, I have also been taunted by finally seeing some formerly large breasts on a woman I knew from high school, after she had them surgically reduced… I never even got to see the “before”, and there she was, flashing me these nasty, weird looking things. That was horrible… Breast reduction on a fat chick just isn’t right either… I guess I am obsessed with all natural or something… Wrinkles, moles, zits, rashes, cottage cheese, flopping natural breasts, and all…
I can’t spend all day typing a bunch of seemingly random thoughts, but it has been more fun than I thought. The decision to stop drinking for a while, maybe permanently, is one of those little things that I can do to potentially bring about positive change in my future. It is so tragic and ironic to me that fixing obesity is not so different, yet it is the only compulsive behavior that someone somewhere figured out how to cash in on with surgery.
It should be no big shock or surprise that as a society, we are constantly trained to reject and condemn obesity. For a few years there, the media seemed to literally “binge” on obesity stories. All the while, the news stories about obesity were punctuated by commercials for diet pills, diet snacks, diet systems, and yes, what a surprise, maybe even a weight loss surgery commercial or two… We are not just being trained to hate fat people, we are being sold on the idea of hating fat people because there is just so much fucking cash to make on convincing them to hate themselves.
Sometimes someone in media will utter the phrase that obesity is the last safe prejudice, as some super morbidly obese person is being kicked off a plane with no alternatives given, or denied a job and told right to their face they are just too fat. Doctors get to play psychic, telling people they are going to die because they are deathfat, the media has something to talk about in between kids shooting up schools, and allergan walks away with a fat stack of cash after pushing all those chicken bones off their plate and dumping the “obesity division” after months of pushing it, haggling, and reducing the sale price… Allergan invented lap band, and like some kind of street level drug dealer, they had to cut off 1 800 get thin because they were killing people.
When I met Candy, she had issues with her body that were so extreme she told me she would look in the mirror and fantasize about cutting her huge belly off. Maybe I have helped her, at least, to reach some self image threshold where she not only accepts her body no matter what it looks like, but she resents being expected to socialize with people based on her fat, instead of her “as a person”. Before, Candy was drawn into the whole bbw thing out of curiosity, at a point when she could not fully accept that aspect of herself. Now, there is very little interest for her to base her socialization upon something that used to make her uncomfortable but doesn’t any longer. Candy would rather demand the respect of peers among a group of people who could appreciate who she is, not what the scale says.
There are ways in which she feels that the “size acceptance community” is about as accepting as a television fat show trainer who encourages an obese person to lose weight and then shakes their head in disgust off cam and behind the “co-star’s” back at how they could have let themselves go to that degree to begin with. There are ways in which Candy has felt “too big for size acceptance”, because she herself knows how she has felt internally when she was smaller and she interacted with a woman of her current size.
This reminds me of the way I developed a strategy for seducing a super sized woman where I worked hard not to compliment any physical aspect of her look that was fat, or fat related. Compliment the eyes, the hair, the smile, the expressions she makes, her personality, her laugh, anything but how big, fat, huge, and fucking amazing her ginormous ass and roly poly thighs are…
Candy has reminded me how effective it was to have complimented her eyes when seeing a photo of her. I was lucky that she was so aggressive at the time, because very mild, complimentary assurance had her spilling exactly what her body looked like to me on the phone before I ever got to meet her in person or see a full length photo of her.
If I were to have immediately objectified her, based on physical traits that she was already uncomfortable with, that would have made her uncomfortable instead of being “assuring” or comforting. I see it all the time, guys trying to lay it on so thick with a big woman thinking it will impress or lure, when it actually has the opposite effect.
This, in turn, helps me to realize yet another layer of cheese over this shit sandwich of size acceptance that I get so passionate about while nearly black out drunk that I have literally embarrassed myself on facebook. If I had to restrain myself from objectifying someone as aggressive as Candy to help insure I would meet and eventually seduce her, why would people assume that obese specific social groups would be appealing to someone like me, and in turn, someone like Candy? I remember, a long time ago, someone asked me why I wasn’t itching to get all up in the bbw stuff when it was literally less than 3 miles away from where I was at the time. Back then, all I could tell them was that I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about it just bugged me, and I was not drawn in like one would expect someone of my intensity to be drawn…
From the very beginning of my relationship with Candy, both of us lurked and lingered around the periphery of all things fat, because of this “linkage” thing that I brought up earlier. Now I can use a fancier analogy like quantum entanglement to describe how inevitable it is that both of us would be connected in some minor way to almost everything and everyone involved in the business of “obesity”.
I could have gone two ways with that, obviously. If I was capable of even faking a sociopath behavior, I would have fit right in with all of it. I would have been right up in the middle of it, anxious and eager to “do something” to prove to the world that the phrase “fat and ugly” is subjective, and not factual or generally applicable in this reality, at least while I exist.
Developments in the world of obesity, or the obesiverse, if you will, brought about a kind of weakness. The empathy that I felt for decades while I watched this one and that one die after this or that surgery started to turn into something else. In some kind of emotional self defense against feeling for those who didn’t know any better, or those who were taken advantage of, I let myself get a little darker, more morbid, and more intolerant to each and every attempt to revise yet another disgusting surgery and make it look “safer this time”.
The disgust with liberal politics and the uneven and unfair distribution of personal responsibility started to disturb me even further, because liberal and conservative slanted media outlets all sell weight loss surgery of some kind. The same news channel that blames some mysterious and alleged “pimp” for every prostitute’s drug habit will sell weight loss surgery and shrug off our society’s failure to teach people how to eat as a personal failure and a lack of respect for all of society. How dare you stay fat? You are fucking it up for everybody!
While a surgically thin formerly fat person can round up the herd and involuntarily show off how awesome it is not to be fat anymore, I remain astounded not only by the irony, but by what appears to be a total and complete acceptance of this phenomenon as if it doesn’t exist. The shrunken elephant in the room, or at the party.
Maybe creating super morbidly obese graphic pornography was my only and most potentially extreme statement against something I noticed a long time ago, and something that has proliferated much more now. I came up with the concept “the fatty exemption” based on how everything is just a little “different” in the obese realm, or the obesiverse.
For example, when I was younger, and I was scouring every source of 80’s porn I could find, on VHS, I obviously noticed a huge lack of this type of content in existence. There was some, but it was just a little “different”. For example, the obese specific content, when actually available at larger “mega porn outlets”, was in the “unusual” or “fetish” section. It took nearly a decade, almost before the death of VHS, before “FAT” had it’s own section in a big porn store!
Before fat got it’s own section, it was tossed in with “old” stuff, or “granny” if you will, and some other stuff, even “little person” porn… Yeah… Fuck all that dumb shit… Midget porn. I may not have known midget porn even existed if it hadn’t been thrown in with the fat stuff in the weird section… Wow porn has changed. Some of the 80’s to 90’s fat related porn would have one fat woman segment, and then an old segment, and then maybe a midget segment. I remember something from the early 90’s that had an old person and midget with the fat chick. They were fucking it all up all kinds of ways. Had I been old enough at that time and had access to the equipment, I would have produced what I produce now, back then.
That almost doesn’t make sense, but it does to me, so it stands. 🙂
When the internet thing really kicked off, porn sites came into existence as if they had always been there. Of course, back in 1998 when I got the idea to start a fat site, there were only a handful, and of course, they were “different”.
While I would see an explosion of digital porn content come into existence, I noticed that the bbw and ssbbw content was still kind of lagging. It seemed that a lot of it was “eating”, or huge women just sitting on guys, or a really big chick just kind of “swaying”, bending, standing, maybe if you are lucky, WALKING? Yeah, the fat stuff was different. There was some hardcore stuff, but it was rare. There were only a handful of super sized women doing the hardcore explicit stuff, so crazy me went out and discovered “lexi”… Then there was Nat, then there was Candy.
One thing did make it extraordinarily difficult and frustrating at times for me to find even 3 ssbbws over the last 15 years willing to “go there”. I was tempted by probably over a dozen awesome ssbbws who thought they could dip their toes in and then pull out suddenly and I would just forget all about that porn thing because they were so awesome… That would not happen. I probably missed out on even meeting at least a dozen or more notorious ssbbws because even if they had a few risque photos floating around out there, I could not be tempted by them to give up what a part of me must have genuinely needed to do, and needed to create.
Even now, there is still some kind of super nova of super morbidly obese female content being created and distributed out there. Most of it though, is still a little different, the fatty exemption in full effect.
I may have resented this for the longest time, because as a guy with surprisingly vanilla sexual appetites, the fixation on super morbidly obese females is probably the most “perverse” thing about my sexuality. I don’t need a super massive woman for some kind of twisted secret ritual, I just want to slide my erect penis into her well lubricated vagina, and if possible, catch it on cam… The size difference has no practical usefulness other than it’s mere existence as visual and additional physical stimulus. My hardcore work is like a graphic, twisted metaphor for each and every time some past acquaintance asked me “how do you get it in?” as some kind of joke. I guess the joke is on them. 🙂
I shouldn’t get so dark, but since I arrived at this point, and named this post before fully comprehending where I would decide to go, I might as well point out something relevant. The fatty exemption in the realm of plus and super size porn would not have been so glaringly obvious if I had been watching “regular” porn at all. In fact, I only recently realized the vastness of this difference when Candy pointed out her favorite types of porn. As I would occasionally see photo examples of what she likes on her tumblr, I realized something. The skinny porn chicks are not only tripping over each other to do porn, but they appear to be enjoying it so much more convincingly.
For example, I am sure there are a couple of skinny chicks who are popular in porn who have strict agreements about how and where the money shot goes down, but I have noticed that out of the many plus and relatively few super sized women who engage in hardcore porn, there are very few who ssbbws who actually appear to really sincerely be enjoying it. The biggest tell is in the reactions I have seen on the faces of some of the most popular bbw and ssbbw hardcore actresses during the typical money shot.
A few of them have it down, but it shocks me how badly a majority of the most popular ones handle that climactic event. I think I have used the metaphor “being sprayed with nuclear waste” when describing it to Candy. This is yet another example of the fatty exemption. Everything is different, it has to be, because super sized chicks are different, and from what I can perceive, the guys who are into super sized chicks exclusively are also “different”. I can only assume this by the way we are treated differently, even by the women who dare to interact with those of us afflicted with this preference for quick cash, or attention without obligation, or something.
It was really hard to go back out there into the dating world again after being with one person for so long, and under the circumstances, I felt as if I was not going to have someone remotely close to Candy’s abilities drop into my lap, ever. I knew that being my age, I would get lumped in with the old guys, and I would struggle in holding out for a woman who was even mildly compatible, acceptably charismatic, openly agreeable, digitally willing, and barely big enough for me to be interested enough to even work at any of it anymore.
I would be presented with available imperfection and unavailable potential perfection. I would experience what it was like, yet again, to be pursued for someone else’s agenda while being brainwashed into forgetting my own. I would be locked into another tug of war over individual power dynamics while struggling to determine if she was worth the time or effort. I managed to get a phone number on a super massive neighbor that I had seen here and there, only to meet up with her and watch myself, as if from the outside, scare the living shit out of her as I described exactly what it was about her impossibly fat body that drew me involuntarily to her.
I would get involved in a long distance relationship, then sabotage it for the benefit of “shopping local”. I would dive so deep into the use of alcohol that it would become an unexpected minor temptation once I decided it was holding me back and I actually want to quit using it entirely. I would know, with each waking moment, even as I attempted to get my life back together and move on, that without her, I never really would. Even if I somehow scraped up enough hope to imagine that I could do it all over again, using my previous accomplishments as inspiration, a part of me just wanted to give up because now I was older. It was one thing to endure such a tedious, uniquely selective process while I was in my 30’s. Once I entered the 40’s, it was a whole other world.
All strategy would have to be adjusted, because nearly all the available older ssbbws were going to be attached to kids, and while one would hope that a late 40’s or early 50’s woman would be free of such inconvenience, I was surprised in my few months of singleness to find at least one woman in her 50’s with a pre-teen somehow. Another mid 40’s woman had the “grown” kid, but still living with her. I became even more depressed at the phenomenon where being over 40 without debt and no attached children made me the perfect candidate to help raise someone else’s kids. Of course the two I mention hadn’t even hustled child support. Of course they hadn’t, they wouldn’t be talking to me. 🙂
Man, one of them had to be literally the most boring woman I have ever talked to in my entire life. She pointed out that she didn’t want to just mess around “anymore”, and she enjoyed sex, but only if it was part of a relationship. This was in the first 5 minutes talking. By that time, I already knew that I wasn’t really interested and she would be the one having to work to get me to fuck her. If that wasn’t enough, the very first woman that set up a meeting talked me into going to a bar, meeting her with “her friends”. Those are both exactly the two rules I have against meeting women out of repeated experience. Bars suck, women who always meet with friends are just, pussies. There is no other way I can describe it. I know it’s supposed to be “safe” and all, but hey, damn those bitches that actually set up traditional “dates” where a woman meets a man out in fucking public on her own, with her big girl pants on.
The one woman accomplished making me break two tried and trusted rules, and then she proceeds to stand me up. No, she didn’t say to be somewhere and just not show up. She begged and pleaded for me to go where she was going to be that night anyway, with or without me. Then she called to make sure I was on my way. When I get to the place, i wait an hour and call. No answer. I knew at that moment. I hung out, but it sucked.
To top it all off, this woman had lost a hand in an accident, and I didn’t really care, even though she had to point it out to me on the phone after I saw it in the photos… She was from “match dot com”. lol I never tried to write to her after she pulled that shit, but two days later she wrote an email to apologize, and I was drunk so I unleashed at least a half dozen of the meanest missing hand jokes I could come up with, cursed her out, and told her never to contact me again. She made be break 2 of my top rules, but standing me up without a damn good excuse just happens to be at the very top… Crossed off, cursed out, hopefully left crying… 🙂
There was a time I cursed this preference, to the point of fantasizing about being able to change it. I hated the fact that I was so limited by it. I hated the fact that odds and probability was working so hard against me, while people mistakenly assumed it should be so easy. The only ssbbw I was going to find as a divorced 40 something year old in a shitty apartment making just enough money on purpose with a fat porn agenda was going to be even more desperate than I was at the time.
I dated and seduced a hardcore christian, and a part of me wonders if I did it just to see if I could, with nothing else to do but survive and giving up on ever finding the perfect super fat porno chick, I would compromise, and date a christian chick with skinny thighs, no butt, giant breasts, who was under 250lbs. At the same time, I still held out some kind of sad, pathetic hope of finding “the next ssbbw hardcore model” when I came across a married chick who gave up the ID and signed a release, but she was freaking married, with a kid, and a small kid at that. She had no problem with modeling, but she was pathologically slutty, to the point where I knew there was something going on that I would never figure out.
That super size woman who modeled for me at that time was unavailable, even if she made herself totally available for modeling. Even if she had been available, I can’t imagine it could have lasted very long, because as usual, such an amazing body came with a confusing and somewhat vacant personality. Ironically, that is something not so different in the super morbidly obese world. There is such a thing as an “awesome body type”, and by chance, they seem to most often be just as fucked up as the skinny awesome body type counterpart.
Just as I was giving up hope, I somehow managed to convince Candy to come back, even when I least expected it. Even though I have gotten her to come back, she is never going to be quite the same as before she left, and by the same token, even if she is the only person in my mind who I believe that I want, I am not quite the same after my attempts to reject my super size preference. I don’t have the pro obesity bias that I once had. I don’t have the same degree of sympathy or empathy towards the root causes of size acceptance, like getting offended by fat jokes or the regularly occurring stereotypes in media that represent obesity.
I know that I have not resolved some issues, because there would not be a 2 year gap in the updates to two of my websites since a very specific time period if I had. A part of me still resents the preference, but not because I lost Candy, or how difficult it would be to ever find someone so perfectly matched to me and able to participate in my work at the same time. I resent it because the higher part of myself knows that this is all unsustainable. The website model is unsustainable, Candy’s mere size is unsustainable, and her behavior is unsustainable.
Because I am a caregiver, I am given the unique perspective of seeing physical limitations that the outside world would not see or even imagine. Even under those circumstances, a part of me insists on obsessively doing some type of hardcore content, even if it is not as frequent as me or Candy would prefer, if just to prove a point. As difficult as it is to be that fat, and as difficult as one could imagine it would be to capture it, I still do so, and will continue to do so. In my world, there is no fatty exemption. In my world, when you choose to do something, you should do it to the extreme. In my reality, super morbid obesity is not a categorization that provides special privilege to make crappy or just weird content that creates the assumption that all sexual dimorphists get off on seeing fat with no sexual context.
If skinny chicks can do it, super morbidly obese chicks can too. I know it should go without asking, why obese porn seems kind of cheesy and lame compared to skinny porn. I know my stuff is amateur, and cheesy, and I myself enjoy creating alternative content like eating if she is going to freaking do it anyway, but I could never have limited myself to only that. I would never have been satisfied with walk, turn, stairs, sit, end clip. I don’t even get off on lesbian content because there is no penis to base mirror neuron fantasy penetration on. 🙂
I spent my life sacrificing potential encounters with women who I knew could never really “give me what I wanted” in favor of finding just one who could, or would, who actually kicks ass doing it. While I am grateful that I have somehow magically re-created this partnership, I am amazed that my obsession with occasional intoxication allowed me to put myself in a position of slowly, gradually losing it all over again. I haven’t written in a while, and there are probably errors, mistakes, grammar issues, and an inability to remain on one train of thought. At the same time, I feel as if everything I have been able to write came from notes that I was taking while I was so drunk I almost can’t remember them.
The fatty exemption probably has a much deeper meaning than even those that I compulsively typed out in this post. The fatty exemption applies to me too, in ways that I have simply run out of steam before exploring.
I will point out, after I was ready to stop writing already, that during one of my drunk rants against weight loss surgery on facebook, someone attempted to defend weight loss surgery as a “last resort”. I was already long logged off, and Candy was reading what I was ranting about, and she told me that someone responded with that incredibly lame argument. I want to respond here, even though I don’t know what was said about it, because while I was sober I logged into facebook and deleted a bunch of shit without really looking at it all because each introductory comment was just so fucking drunkenly offensive. By making the last resort for health argument in defending weight loss surgery or the decision to have it, one is assuming that weight loss surgery is the “cure for obesity”. It is not. If it were, there would not be any fat people left, because our society is so obsessed with eliminating it that they would probably subsidize the surgery for anyone over a specific BMI.
Weight loss surgery is not a cure for obesity. It is not a cure for anything. It is the only body modification in existence to treat an addiction. The fatty exemption applies in all sorts of ways. Fat is the last safe prejudice, because it is so profitable to berate and insult people into getting cut on. If weight loss surgery is a last resort to save someone’s life, I have to ask why that 10 or 20 thousand could not be spent on intense addiction therapy, much like ‘rehab’ but for fat.
I don’t really have to ask though, because I know the answer. Therapy of obese people could never be as profitable as surgery, because you have to institutionalize them, and you have to hire people to take care of them. Hiring people to take care of institutionalized morbidly obese people can be tricky for a number of reasons. The increased risk of injury, the eww factor, potential liabilities, and having to be careful not to hire perverts like myself to bathe massively fat women and get paid, are just a few concerns.
The truth is, in this capitalist, commercial society, is to keep producing images of what everybody should look like, then insult and ridicule people who don’t meet that standard so they spend cash on a dangerous surgery that they themselves have no real way of knowing the dangers or feelings involved until they are stuck with it.
I would argue that there is no such thing as weight loss surgery as a “last resort”, unless that last resort is to stop one from expanding their body to the point where losing weight will make them look like more of a freak than just staying fat. So, my point is that all weight loss surgery is elective and cosmetic. There is no health benefit from risking one’s health to improve one’s health. All surgery carries the risk of potential death, there is a story in the media right now about a child who died after having tonsils out.
The only reasonable “last resort” for a super morbidly obese person who is actually in danger of dying instead of just being freaked out because some allegedly psychic doctor said they were going to die, would be fat rehab. Fat rehab is just a big huge pain in the ass though, apparently and literally…
The truth is, just like addiction, obesity can never be ‘cured’, and the general public has been sold on this idea that surgery is a cure for it. Because it got so popular before a couple dozen people died, the general public assumes it is “safe and effective” because that’s what the commercials on television say. We all know that most people are ignorant sheep who believe everything they hear on television. If they are told over and over the weight loss surgery is a cure, they take it for granted, without having done the research that I have to know about all of the lives that have come to a premature end as a result of this “last resort” for their health…