Posts tagged PTSD

luck

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I don’t like to depend on “luck” as we call it, or think we know it.  I live in Las Vegas, and I don’t really enjoy or feel compelled to gamble.  It’s really ironic to move nearly 2000 miles from Louisiana to Las Vegas and not want to gamble.

I blame it on my cheapness, and my weak but solid knowledge of math, statistics, and odds.  I make one assumption when I walk into one of those massive super store type casinos.  The odds are in the house’s favor.  Beyond that, I realize that any money lost would be a natural consequence for betting against that house.

The cheapskate trait that I have noticed most of my life comes in when I realize all the things I could do with money rather than gamble it away through some lottery or machine.  I also make subtle calculations on how much money I would lose over time if I continued with a regular gambling habit that seemed small.

As cheap as I am, and as aware of odds as I am, I still smoked cigarettes for a few decades on and off.  I had managed to quit before, for over a year, but something would eventually trigger me into going back to it.  I’m only at day 17 and I’m acting like I have beat smoking already, but I am used to using patches and now there is the “emergency e-cig” too.

After just a few weeks, I’m already having dreams about smoking, but instead of fulfilling a fantasy of wanting to smoke in those dreams, they are more like nightmares, because of the feeling of disappointment after taking that first drag on the “dream cigarette”.

I have been in some kind of inner conflict for the longest about if luck is something that really exists, or if an old cliche’ is true about the more you work towards a goal, the more luck you happen to run into.  I don’t test my luck in a casino because just like the psychics like to say “it doesn’t work that way.”

venus von willendorf statue, goddess or first porn model, feedee, and gainer

venus von willendorf statue, goddess or first porn model, feedee, and gainer

When I consider where I am right now, and how things are going, I am forced to remember what it was like when things were so different, and I was so different.  My “growth” was hindered by the abuse of just one drug, alcohol, for months at a time, and I didn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation I was placing myself in.

Now, I have only taken a baby step towards being somewhat “fixed” in quitting smoking.  That is just one little habit in a long line of impulsive behavior I have to gain control over.  In quitting smoking, I have given myself another level of confidence in what I can achieve when I put my mind to it.

The truth is, I was merely procrastinating from quitting smoking because the withdrawal is such a bitch.  I would have done it long ago, as I have a few times before, but I just didn’t feel like the hassle of a few weeks in first world misery.  Once I started using expressions like “first world” more often, I started to realize the arrogance of this concern over such a minor inconvenience.

I was only so “lucky” to get to smoke in the first place because I had the extra income to blow nearly $200 a month on the drug that would probably end up killing me eventually.  It seems so simple, when you think of the assumed logical equation of smoking = death.  Maybe people who smoke have a death wish.  Maybe people who eat themselves up to nearly or over 500lbs also have a similar wish, but it has been modified to abuse a substance that provides life.  Food.

 

I don’t usually post music videos, but I had to give credit to what I chose to listen to while I attempt to finish this blob post without hitting 5000 words, but then again, there is no way I can predict where my stream of consciousness writing will go.

I’m only 2 weeks into quitting smoking, but I already know I will be successful, because I have been reminded in what could be called a “nightmare” that I have to quit, “right now” apparently.  There is some sense of synchronicity in this realization, because Candy experiences such breathing difficulty that she is on 2 different medications now.

I never smoked inside after Candy quit smoking, I started smoking outside before Candy ever quit actually.  I made it a habit, because I always knew I would quit smoking, and I didn’t want my apartment and everything in it to be polluted with that horrible smell after I quit.

After I quit for just a week, i started to experience my true sense of smell again as well.  Now I can taste better, and I can detect so many things in the air around me with a sense that had been dulled for years by this dreadful habit.

I can detect a female that is heavily “scented” from quite a distance.  I can also detect when someone is smoking a cigarette in a very wide area.  I can smell someone close to me and know if they are an alcoholic, or a smoker, or a pot smoker, or a crackhead.

With that realization alone, I am motivated to stay far away from inhaling burning matter on purpose, except for weed of course.  I went to the trouble of getting a card at the DMV from the state of Nevada to get legal permission to smoke fucking weed.  What a rigmarole.

medical marijuana card nevada

i got my medical marijuana card!

I might be “lucky” to have quit smoking when I did, or in the long timeline, it’s already too late and the real tragedy is that I don’t even know it.  Either way, I’ll take a higher quality of life while it is granted to this old, abused body.  I am still trying to become more “enlightened” even though I realize that because of my age and my old ways, it will be much more difficult than a much younger version of me.

There was really no way to break through to younger me though, as it is, I didn’t become a full fledged alcoholic until after hitting 40, and I am already backtracking at 46.  When I gain control over alcohol though, I won’t need to abstain, I will just use it sparingly when the desire arises to reconnect with this aggravating part of myself.

I have had access to more pharmaceuticals than I can pronounce, and I don’t abuse those at all.  I know where that road goes, I chose to start using alcohol when I already knew how fucking serious it was and dangerous that particular compulsion can be to people like myself who have issues with impulse control and procrastination and anxiety and depression.

I lost so much while I chose to experiment with alcohol.  Candy didn’t even know the full extent of her ability to emotionally disconnect and withdraw when exposed to a “typical alcoholic”.  She had family issues going way back with alcoholism, and me being “that guy” brought her back to a family situation that she fled from as a mere child.  There was no way she would tolerate that behavior from me.

I don’t think it’s too late for me though, I started reading “Be Here Now” and it gave me an insight and perception that I had not thought of or realized for a very long time.  It was like reading that first Dianetics book and realizing that there were a lot of statements in there that I “knew already but never thought of in that way.”

I realized as I was reading Be Here Now by Ram Dass how similar his ability to recall things everyone already kind of knows in a different way is to L Ron Hubbard.  The severe difference is that L Ron Hubbard doesn’t write from the perspective of someone who has done LSD.

Ram Dass also traveled India extensively and met with many gurus who made a profound impact on his perception of this reality.  The influence of being on LSD a lot of the time could have impacted or biased that experience, but when you think about it, it would bias it in exactly the direction he was meant to go.

Be here now is all about figuring out the simple truth that you are exactly where you are supposed to be at any given time, given your desire to either find enlightenment or hide from it.

Everyone is on a path, and some people ride that path with blinders on, protecting them from seeing the potential branches that they could take which would change their lives for the better, forever.

I have used “drugs” to open my perception beyond what my bias and upbringing and limited education would allow.  I have expanded the very experience of my reality by opening my mind up to alternate states of consciousness.

People who are all like “drugs, ew” are so “white and uptight” that it kills me.  I can easily see why so many Caucasians will reject the race that they happened to be assigned at birth in favor of one that isn’t so fucking uptight!

I have spent a great deal of time in waiting rooms, getting the much needed and neglected medical attention for myself and “The Candy” simply because the opportunity was provided by this thing “Obamacare” that so many “fake conservatives” are all worked up over.  I dread another “republican in name only” getting into office to destroy any chance I have to get medical care while at the same time creating a moral panic over “obscenity” to appeal to the religious right. 🙁

I have read a great deal of spiritual material in those waiting rooms, and I feel that I am very very far from total enlightenment, but even the very first step towards it is enthralling, exhilarating, and beautiful.

I have realized that no matter who I was, or have been, there is room in my heart for change, for the better.

I know that no matter what beliefs I have stubbornly held onto in the past, I can see the “big picture” just a little clearer now.  I know that my dependence on any substance has been some kind of false idol that I worship and make sacrifice to in order to maintain my personal status quo of procrastination.

If the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is a problem.  I passed that little nugget of self awareness months, if not years ago.  I just needed a reason to grow emotionally.  I needed to find hope and salvation in the potential of a future I really wanted in order to make myself prepared and available for that future to occur in this reality.

Now, as I take the baby step of quitting smoking, I realize that there is something in my distant future that requires and demands that little positive change in order to allow a chain of events to occur.  I am thinking of time a little differently now.  Instead of thinking of time on a straight line, I can see how the present intersects with the future due to consequence in ways that I could not see or did not want to see before.

The simple act of quitting smoking has caused me to begin to realize a whole set of new future realities, that never would have occurred to me without having had the experiences I have had, good and bad.

If I had not gone through so much bad shit, I would not have had the motivation or inspiration to continue to get better, and continue to grow spiritually.  When I say grow spiritually, do not confuse that with the whole fucked up and contradictory phenomenon known as “religion”.

They are not the same, and can’t be, because current mainstream eastern religion inhibits personal growth by keeping women down and restricting sexual behavior.  It will always seem back woods and “redneck”.  Just look at any given argument against “same sex marriage”.

I have to laugh when I see what bigoted fools the highly reverent and religious are making of themselves to this current, slightly more enlightened generation.

Maybe I am so lucky, because while in one of my altered states of consciousness, I had this crazy idea of leaving everything I knew so well to travel west and land in allegedly fabulous Las Vegas.  I followed some sense of what I know will happen in the future.  I know that Louisiana will be one of the very last hold outs to legalizing marijuana.

I know that as voters turn down medical marijuana in the deep southern state of Florida, voters in Nevada approved medical marijuana over a decade ago, but the state of Nevada is pussyfooting around because they are so scared of being hassled over “gaming”.  Dicks.

I think that I realize just how lucky I am, to have moved to where I did, just when I did, and follow a highly disciplined regimen of living on next to nothing for over 3 years.  It sounds totally crazy, even to me, but I seem to know what’s coming, and I am planning every step of the way before I even realize what I am planning for.

Everything just happens as it is supposed to.  I take limited risks in tiny micro social environments, and I create an outcome that I really want.  I am faced with a challenge larger than I have ever attempted in all my life in the future.  I have to make everything exactly the way I want it, in a way that is even more perfect than I have set it up in the present.  The scary part is, I know I am capable of doing it, and it will be done.

I am just that lucky. 🙂

hardcore anxiety

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The title might be misleading, because I am not talking about anxiety on a ‘hardcore’ level.  That would become apparent without explanation, but I was compelled to use that title before thinking of how it would appear to have a different meaning than what I wanted to infer, simply because the story of why it exists would clear it up without this ‘disclaimer’ being used to clarify.

I found this unusual feeling of anxiety come over me just before posting the last clip on the store.  It is a hardcore clip, and I really like this one because I had been practicing some mental exercises to regain a much higher level of climax control.

It had been a long time since getting back in front of the camera myself, and the previous time, there was more time spent waiting for climax to chill the fuck out instead of doing some serious continuous porno style pounding.

I don’t have anxiety about getting in front of the camera, because in the end, I choose what to release and what not to release.  At the same time, I still ponder releasing content that shows me passing out drunk while trying to have sex with a ssbbw and she’s texting people on her phone.

I think that shit is awesome.  I find the reality sense of flawed work more interesting than something that looks plastic, fake, and magazine cut out.  I find it funny when I am failing in front of the camera as I look at it afterwards.  While in front of the camera, because I have been doing this for over a decade, I don’t feel anxiety at all about it.  I can’t, because if I were to let that creep in, I would have difficulty in maintaining erection AND controlling climax at the same time.

That is the worst too, because if there is ANY effort being put forth in order to maintain an erection, one has to continually skate the edge of climax.  If there is ANY issues going on with maintaining control of climax, you are just fucked, and not in a good way.

Just wanted to add some music, if it stays there, but this is a stable channel.  I almost laughed as I typed that.  I have had 8 youtube channels deleted because even though Candy was not nude in any of the clips, they were considered “obscene”, according to the standard terms of service note that let me know they were digitally murdering 8 of my fucking channels.

There is probably more anxiety about doing hardcore video on Candy’s side than mine.  I don’t have anxiety because again, I can just delete the clip, or distribute it for free somewhere as if it got “leaked”.  I use EVERYTHING though.  My first porno was on VHS tape, and I got it mail order by lying about my age by signing some bogus form, after saving up from mowing lawns to buy my first VCR just for this purpose.

The first porno was not edited at all.  There was a disembodied voice of a producer in the background telling them what to do.  There was also a lot of laughing and messing around that was probably supposed to be cut out.  Some guy literally paid a couple of people to fuck in front of a camera, then placed a tiny ad in the back of a porno, and sold this shit probably out of his house.

The actors in that first porno were not fat.  I wanted to see “porno” because I had been exposed to it “at a friend’s house” at probably the age of 14 or 15.  Once I got a taste, I had to keep watching it sooner or later.  I believe one of the first films I ever saw was “taboo”, but I can’t be sure if it was that movie, or if that was a preview that was shown before the cheesy crap that was being put out at that time.

I eventually tripped across fat porn by literally calling every 1 800 number associated with every porno ad in the back of every porno mag I could get my hands on.  Long before the internet, I was doing research by literally cold calling porn distributors asking them for fat porn.

Using that technique, I eventually came across a few fat porno tapes, but a lot of them were from Europe, because back in the 80’s, nobody thought of using fat models for porno until some creepy guy started calling all of them asking for fat porn.

I remember “wrinkles and ripples”, which was probably made in the UK, because there was no dialogue, only shitty music, but there was a scene where two guys walk into a building, and the architecture is unmistakably European, and early 80’s.  One or both of these 2 guys walking into a fat prostitute’s apartment were not circumcised either, which is a sure sign that they were not in America.

I am circumcised because it was forced on me, but I’ll take it, because a lot of women seem to prefer it.  I still don’t think it’s cool to just do it without permission from the male though.  People bitch about genital mutilation in Africa while they do this shit to every male born as a standard in the USA.  Anyway…

That first porn with fat women actually had old people too, hence, the “wrinkles” part of the title.  Back in the 80’s, they were combining fetishes in these combo tapes because nobody assumed that fat could stand on it’s own.  As the years passed, and we get into the 90’s, I remember going to a few adult book stores that were destined to be closed down by shitting fake religious Louisiana politics.  Those book stores actually took the leap and had a “fat section” that was separate from “weird and freak” type stuff.

I could almost feel relief that for once, the BDSM and D/S stuff was considered “freakier” than fat porn.  Maybe I wasn’t a total freak for being attracted to super sized women after all.  No, I am a fucking freak and a half.

So, there is zero anxiety about performing in the porn coming from me, but Candy might be concerned about having a complexion that exists in reality rather than having a magic wand that could photoshop her ass in real life.  I know that some of my work could be criticized because I don’t touch up complexion or use filters to hide shit.  I have always considered my work to be “real”, and then this shitty “reality television” crap came along.

It’s ironic that people don’t see the connection between the content I create and “reality tv”.  Maybe because my shit is “porn” so it can’t count as “reality”.  It’s really ironic because porn is about as real as people can get, when they know each other and have been doing this shit for over a decade.  When you toss 2 people in a room with a full crew and a producer yelling out instructions in between takes, I’m sure it’s not as real as my shit is.  The corporate stuff is so fucking *pretty* though, so it has it’s own following.  My shit is gritty, and sometimes literally ugly, and that’s what I like about it.

When I look around at fat porn, I am most drawn to the content that features more realistic models, with actual real life flaws, who act like real people.  Heavy duty faking is annoying, begging for cum and then reacting to it like it’s nuclear waste is annoying.  Two people acting really attracted to each other while they actually can’t stand each other is not going to translate very well with people who are “porn stars” and not “actors”.

My shit is real, flaws and all.  I almost think about it like some kind of perfectly balanced equation.  Nothing can be perfect.  If perfection was a requirement for existence we would not fucking be here.  It’s wild that as I get older, I start to see porn like MATH.  In fact, I am starting to see this entire reality being broken down into common denominators and simplified fractions.  It’s almost like how the characters in The Matrix were able to see what was going on from streams of numbers and characters across a screen.

When Candy is worried about a flaw or imperfection, I try to remind her, that she is thinking with her brain, and not my customer base’s collective brain.  When I saw imperfection, I feel some kind of common ground with people who are literally “out of my league”.  If a woman doesn’t have a perfect complexion, or she has some obvious flaw, it makes her more “real” in my eyes.

Imperfection doesn’t seem like a very real qualifying factor in making someone more attractive.  We generally see imperfection as something that takes away from perfection.  The real truth is, all “fat people” are already considered “flawed” based on their fat appearance.  Trying to make flawed fat perfect is something I wish I had a clever analogy for off the top of my head.  Maybe “lipstick on a pig”, but that might sound insulting and harsh.  Cliche is rarely friendly or politically correct while trying to convey a message of truth that few really want to hear or believe.

I can talk to her all I want about how she is just the perfect fulfillment of an equation that makes her known at all in a world of plastic people, but it won’t help.  She is working with her brain, her bias, her experience, her wisdom, her perception, and her reality.  As I get older we get along better because instead of being personally offended by some of her observations, I can appreciate just how different her perception can be from mine, as we both simultaneously experience the exact same reality, as 2 unique observers.

Every once in a while Candy will say “fuck it, let’s fuck in front of the cam”, and I am down, like setting lights up before she finishes the sentence.  I jump in there full throttle, so much so I might forget to take my socks off and look ridiculous.  It doesn’t matter, I leave it in there. 🙂

I love doing it.  I get a rush from fucking in front of the camera that brings me back to my “first time” long before Florida and Lexi from fatfantasy.net.  I remember spending long days in a back room repairing computers fantasizing about using one to make money instead of having to figure out complex computer issues all day every fucking day.

The first chance I get to express this desire to create fat content, it starts to take off, and then I figure out that I can’t co-exist with Lexi at that age, and that level of impulsive behavior not checked by a clear sense of consequence or long term planning.  I was “young, dumb, and full of cum” and I could not resist fucking exactly the woman I wasn’t supposed to exactly when I wasn’t supposed to exactly where I wasn’t supposed to.

I rebelled against Lexi’s control, because I was really in control of all that shit, and she was confined to a bed barking out orders and making unreasonable demands, and conning the fuck out of me the whole time.  I deserved it, I was young and stupid, I made promises I could not keep, and I could not resist opportunity when I had multiple bbws and ssbbws flirting with me and tempting me to step out now and then.

i walked away from Lexi and started all the way over from step one.  I worked for 3 years for someone else while I slowly accumulated new content and started from scratch.  I managed to pull it off though, and by 2002 I was working on version 2 of hotbbws.com because Lexi shut me down for using the Florida shit the first time.

Getting in front of the camera again was getting revenge on Lexi for taking all that content away from me.  I have seen content with me in it now and then, and it always reminds me of how I don’t have copies of that shit myself, because I was a fucking “nice guy” and didn’t just take all that fucking shit with me when I left.

I didn’t even take a camera.  I had to work for months to save up to buy my first fucking digital camera after leaving Florida because I was too fucking stupid to just take the shit that my credit paid for.

Ok, enough of that.  Maybe that conveys the passion and drive behind everything I did after I left Florida.  There can’t be anxiety about creating hardcore content within me because I literally get off creating it.

The reason for using the title hardcore anxiety is because of a feeling that sometimes comes over me at that last moment before I am about to post the content I have already created, edited, and uploaded.

I should be so anxious to get it out there I can’t stand it, but sometimes I actually procrastinate before taking the final steps of writing the description and hitting “add to store”.  Once I start writing the description, I am into it big time.  The last description I wrote was probably so weird that people might want to buy the clip just to see what the fuck I am talking about.

Once I start writing, something seems to just take over, like right now, as I check and see that I am rapidly approaching 2000 words and instead of wanting to stop, my fingers are moving faster and faster.  I can type up to 80 words per minute if I am in a good mood and not drunk, and when I start writing here, I may actually go higher than that.  I get the figure 80 from the last pre-employment typing test that I took, so that was an unbiased computer generated test with a result that I could only influence by actually typing really fucking fast on demand.

Writing the description soothes the mysterious anxiety that comes about just before adding the clip.  I love creating the content, I am excited while editing it, and I can’t wait to promote it.  At the same time, i started this follow back shit on twitter, so now I am about to post really inappropriate content still images to a bunch of people following me just to get a follow back.

I don’t have anxiety about losing followers on twitter, because every time I lose 10, I get 40 more at the same time.  I don’t even care about twitter itself so much, because it started out as an experiment to figure out how it works, and why people are so bat shit crazy about it.

I still don’t even use a smartphone, so I’m not seeing that shit constantly all day.  I didn’t log in at all yesterday, but I did take a moment to log into “tweepi” just to “flush” unfollowers and reciprocate new followers by following them back.

I have managed to make twitter so mathematical and impersonal, I may have actually defeated the entire purpose for it’s existence, except as a source of amusement now and then when I am already procrastinating.

So, I experimented myself right the fuck out of feeling good about promoting my shit.  At the same time, I have picked up so many fat, bbw, and ssbbw porn reposters that I could lose %90 of my followers and the remaining %10 were actually MORE IMPORTANT than all the rest.  Twitter is mathematically fascinating to me.

flush & add with tweepi

flush & add with tweepi

Yeah, it’s very impersonal when I can log into an app outside of twitter itself and do 69 clicks to resolve the imbalance between people I follow, and assholes who add me to get a follow back and then unfollow me like I don’t fucking know they did that.  I’m ready to start seeing repeated attempts to do this shit by familiar avatars.

I don’t even fucking care about twitter, but now it has turned into some kind of game for me, which is actually more exciting than World of Warcraft ever was.  It involves real people with fake avatars just like a MMORPG, but this is a different type of game, because it also involves gaining followers in a specific niche and working the fuck out of it.

So, it’s like the first “video game” I have come across that amuses me to the point of wanting to do it every few days, but at the same time, instead of collecting fictional “gold”, I am acquiring followers who will tend to repost my shit when I am putting out some awesome new SSBBW hardcore and I actually stopped procrastinating long enough to list it.

Hardcore anxiety in my situation is really minor, and it only takes place at the most perfect time, when all the hard work is done already.  This minor anxiety is something that I want to dig deeper into my own brain to figure out.  I have tried to attribute it to the PTSD left over from Candy’s previous departures.  I have wondered if I occasionally suffer from premature ejaculation for the same reason.  It’s like i want to shoot my load in her before she can take off again or something! 🙂

I still have climax control, but every once in a while, that shit sneaks up on me.  The time when I created the horse head mask hardcore video, the scenario of wearing a mask excited me unexpectedly to the point where I was struggling big time with climax control.  I still managed to pull it off, in a few different positions no less, but it was a constant struggle, believe me.

The next hardcore clip had more preparation and getting into position than it had hard sustained pounding.  Again, the fact that it had been so rare to create hardcore after all those feedee clips, contributed to difficulty in containing my excitement and my cum too.

I have found that having just a few beers, not getting loaded, but just barely buzzed, can help a great deal.  Of course, if you cross a line and go too far with alcohol, there is a potential for difficulty in maintaining erection too.  I can’t help but remember the song “Too Drunk To Fuck” by the Dead Kennedys.

I don’t resort to that though, because Candy doesn’t like to have sex with drunk people, and even if we have been together since Feb of 2002, if I am buzzed, I’m still “drunk people” in her perception, and I understand that.  I also don’t like to resort to the use of drugs in order to control aspects of my self, or my being.  When I use drugs for intoxication, I am exploring a part of myself that I can’t access while sober.  That is different.

So, without any enhancement from alcohol, or even Viagra, I have a damn good time in front of the camera.  The last video clip that featured hardcore was excellent.  I had Candy nearly trying to fake orgasm to get me to climax, because I was getting kind of rough on her, and going on a little longer than necessary for her sexual preference.  At the same time, I had finally done just enough hardcore video in just short enough increments that it just started to “come back to me” like “riding a bicycle”.

Even then, the evening that I could have posted the new clip I ended up getting drunk, and when I get intoxicated to a certain degree, I really don’t want to write because it is going to be so fucked up and make even less sense than I manage to make when I am fucking sober, like now.

So, hardcore anxiety is something I still deal with in that strange procrastination technique.  Even with that one evening delay, the next day, I was so eager to list that clip that I literally could not do anything else until it was complete.  Sometimes, the anxiety may just be a simple sense of timing.  Maybe posting it the night before was just a little too soon, because it had not even been a week since posting the last clip.

Maybe the hardcore anxiety is less related to the type of clip, but the fact that I literally can’t wait to list it, so I have to stop myself and hold out as long as possible before slamming that shit up!

Either way, that clip is up, and I am tempted to post another clip on the day that the hardcore clip would have been normally added on a once a week schedule.  I don’t want to exceed the once in a week schedule because I am literally concerned about making too much money to be eligible for medicaid, while I am carrying out that whole separate experiment.

Maybe the reason i was compelled to write and get to the bottom of this one thing was just to help me come to the conclusion that I just wrote.  One experiment is actually getting in the way of another.  Because I have lived with this cursed sense of irony, a part of me may actually be creating a concern about making “too much money” because that’s exactly what a part of me really wants.

What a first world problem to have though huh?  Maybe it’s because I need a hip replacement and I am very concerned about being made even more disabled than I am with a bad hip, so I have to maintain the low income to make a transition into disability much more convenient.

Maybe I am concerning myself with the possibility of being physically more fucked up and making too much money because a part of me has experienced something all through life where my low expectations generate a much more emphatic positive reaction when I was wrong about what “could happen”.

I worry about making too much money, and a part of myself realizes just how easy it is for me to make money, and I am left with a variable in an equation that involves future probability entangled with low expectations versus the motivation and drive to do “better than expected”.

More simplified, by worrying about making too much money, I am kind of guaranteeing myself that I will, just to fulfill some kind of passive aggressive inner conflict.

By worrying that some surgeon is going to fuck my hip up, I would be highly pleased at an outcome where I can still walk, and actually have less pain that I do now.

I know, that is a totally fucked up way to live, but then again, it’s the way that I have continually gotten everything I wanted, so much so, that I am left to worry about things that I can’t control, which I have to stop myself from dwelling on, so I can continue to control reality enough to get what I want out of it.

I have to actually concentrate to think of the next thing I “really want”.  Odds are, I am going to get it, but I hesitate in even granting focus to something I think I want, because of the possible unintended consequences that may go along with it.

At this age, at this point in my life, knowing what I know, I would never have fallen for the tricks that Lexi played to get everything.  At the same time, I don’t have the need to search for and find another Lexi, because as many times as I have lost her, I am still with Candy.

Maybe all of this helps me to work out the lingering PTSD involved with almost losing Candy repeatedly.  I know that I still have abandonment issues because of that, there is still some degree of insecurity because of it, and I never would have even attempted to carry out the kind of affair that I did last year if I wasn’t still suffering from some kind of residual emotional effect of her leaving both times.

Now I have caused a negative emotional impact on yet another innocent bystander because of the fickle nature of Candy’s whims.  I am not openly resentful about that, but a part of me has not let go of it fully.  I’m still bitching about Lexi and fatfantasy. net and that shit started in 1998 and ended in 2000.  That little 2 years of my life is still fucking with me.  It may be one of the main reasons that I am still creating hardcore content at all.

Another interesting thought comes from this stream of consciousness writing now.  As I begin to finally resolve feelings of resentment for Lexi, I start to lose focus of my motivation and drive to create hardcore content in the first place.

Now a part of me can perceive what I am doing externally, because of all the experimentation with alcohol and weed.  I can see this old guy who is desperately trying to hold on to some former position of glory, that can and will never be realized again.  Maybe that’s part of what would be an otherwise normal “mid life crisis”, except that the biggest thing I accomplished in my life besides what I do now is that fucked up, highly traumatic 2 years with Lexi.

I am letting go of all that, or I started to really let go of it when I heard of her passing just weeks after I destroyed all my physical copies of that work.  Irony strikes again.  The only person obsessed with keeping me from using that work dies just weeks after I destroy it so I don’t have to look at it myself.  Luckily I did save one cd full of photos out of 21 cds, and they were the ones that meant the most to me.

i can let go of the resentment for Lexi and still remained focus on creating what I truly love to create.  After all, how many women closing in on 500lbs do you see getting fucked and swallowing right now??? 🙂

ssbbw candy godiva swallows

ssbbw candy godiva swallows

Yeah, I am really lucky to have the drive and desire to create this content and have such a willing participant.  I don’t feel the loss of Lexi or that entire group anymore, because I have been guided by fate and destiny to be lucky enough to work with this super sized angel.

ssbbw candy godiva best oral in universe

ssbbw candy godiva best oral in universe

I managed to comb time and space in order to find one SSBBW that is not scared of cock or cum, and who loves doing this shit so much that if she is faking it is humorous instead of erotic.  The truth is, once cock gets involved, she is not faking one bit.

That’s what makes her shit so great.  I can see it when a woman is struggling to tolerate a situation, or has some kind of allergic reaction to cum after begging for it for 15 minutes.

I know that is harsh, and I realize that I could not possibly imagine what drives a woman who has such an adverse reaction to being cum on to do porn in the first place.  At the same time, the phrase “you had one job” comes to mind too.  I have had talks with Candy about this, and she points out that if it gets in your eye it burns, and I can accept that, but it doesn’t explain why some women will allow an actor to cum in her mouth and then literally gag even if she is going to spit it all out.

I never worked with a “real porn chick” before, because I am under the impression that I could not afford to hire them, and Candy would be somewhat intimidated to work with them, even in softcore “side by side” type modeling.  There is one model that lives right here in Vegas that Candy and I have talked about, and we would be more than willing to come up with a few hundred to hire her, just because of who she is, but Candy is still intimidated by her.

There have been a few other women who have offered to model for the same amount, but they are escorts and not really professional models, so I am hesitant to invest a nickel in them because of the nature of being an escort in and of itself.  From what I have heard, some of them are really good at word play to the point where a guy is paying them to feed them and just hang out without even going all the way.  If an escort works to create that kind of scenario in a non modeling situation, I imagine that they would be hard to work with as they try to “let the clock run out” while doing the bare minimum and not really putting their heart into the modeling itself.

I could be wrong, an escort could be an excellent model, I just wouldn’t know, because I’m not spending $300 to find out!  It’s hard for me to justify spending that kind of money to hire a model, when Candy appearing by herself is guaranteed to bring in something.  I get the feeling that paying someone $300 to model next to her would never bring in that much more than a video clip of her by herself.

I’ve stopped asking around about modeling now, because it’s not really my place to do that.  It’s up to Candy, because she is the one who has to stand, sit, or lay next to this person.  Candy may not even be prepared to do that with another model at this point, so I am leaving it up to her if another model ever appears with her again.  The last time one did, it was 2009, we were in Baton Rouge, and the woman didn’t want to get paid because she wanted “shared content”.

Here in Vegas, finding an established model that wants to do shared content with Candy is not as easy as you might think.  I think everybody here wants to get paid, for anything, and I can’t blame them.  At the same time, I see these group photo shoots and I know that each woman probably wasn’t paid individually, because they all have websites, and they could all use that as shared content.  In a big group there isn’t usually anything sexual going on, just 3 to 5 big women hanging out while posing next to each other.

Candy hasn’t ended up in that situation, because she has not worked to create that situation.  If she had any interest in going out to “bbw parties” and stuff like that, she would meet women there that do this kind of thing all the time.  Candy has had a bit of social anxiety though, so without making a grand appearance at a bar somewhere, these other women will never meet her in public, and in the past 3 years, they have not made any effort to come to her.

I don’t really care anymore if I get to work with anyone else now, ever.  I had a mild curiosity when I saw a few Vegas bbw models posing together, but then I realized, being a full time model is not even Candy’s “job”.  She volunteers to do this for me.  I am just lucky enough to be around when she is going on a food splurge, and she doesn’t mind me pointing a camera at her while she is binge eating.

I am also very lucky that Candy is ok with me bringing a camera into our sex life, because I don’t think there are very many SSBBWs at her size doing the sexually explicit type of content that I am creating.  If there are, I just haven’t found them because I’m so busy making my own porn that I have lost interest in looking around at everyone else’s.

I can’t believe that as long as this post was already, I came back and added more to it.  I guess I was thinking that I was too harsh to end this post with that statement about how unusual it is for a woman to take a job where she is begging to be cum on for 15 minutes and then suddenly has an involuntary spasm of disgust once she finally gets what she asks for.  Why work in porn if you hate cum? 🙂

another wave

0

Time is funny.  One can remember some events with such clarity, and yet, other events that might be more recent seem cloudy and distant.  One can remember something from childhood as they reach middle age, yet most people can’t remember the dream they had the night before.

For some reason, negative events seem to imprint themselves into memory so much deeper than the positive ones, with a few exceptions here and there.  I can remember the feeling of achievement when I passed the A+ computer tech certification test without having paid for any training or preparation classes.  That memory is not as strong as the one of me driving back to Louisiana while leaving Alexis in Florida, and leaving behind my first successful bbw porn website at the same time.

I can remember some of the songs that played on the radio, like Duran Duran “Girls On Film”.  I thought it was really ironic that I would catch that song from the very beginning as I flipped through an otherwise blank radio band in the middle of bum fuck nowhere Florida.  I can remember that the weather was nice, and while it wasn’t too hot, I had to restrict my speed to under 55 miles per hour because the radiator in my 1985 Toyota pick up truck was partially clogged, and I had to leave Florida too urgently to replace it first.

I can only partially remember driving to Florida in that same truck, pulling a U-Haul trailer nearly full of junk to a house that was owned by the woman who would later install the fear of death into me with her lies and schemes.  I can remember taking the plane to Orlando to meet her for the first time better than I remember driving myself there with all my stuff to “move in”.

I was such a fool to move in with that woman to begin with.  I laugh and laugh when I hear about people living across the country from each other, meeting up a few times, then moving in with each other.  I’m sure it might work occasionally, but I am now under the impression that you don’t really know someone until you have lived with them over a freaking year.

If you happened to move hundreds or even thousands of miles from your former home when you move in with someone, you are kind of trapped, unless you hold on to just enough cash to get your ass back home for the first whole year.  I was dumb enough to get talked into marrying that woman within the first fucking year.

There is no way that I should have gotten married to her, but when she suggested it, I thought it would give me more security in ownership of the company I created if I was married to my partner.  That was such a bad idea, because I was so fucking stupid I did not realize the company was really in her name, and so was the website that I poured so much of myself into.

When I got married to her I was entitled to “half”, but only if I was willing to stick around and fight her for it.  By the time I was ready to leave Florida, I had no fight left in me.  Alexis had me thrown in jail twice on made up bullshit.  I was never arrested in my life before going to Florida, and now, at age 46, I have never been arrested since either.  I’m lucky that I fought the charges instead of taking a plea deal, because I don’t have any record of any convictions, and I wasn’t forced to stay in Florida for months longer taking “court mandated anger management courses”.

I wasn’t going to fight her for that website or business, and I wasn’t going to stick around Florida one second longer than necessary once the charges were dropped against me.  The very day of my final court date, when I was told I was free and clear of all that bullshit, I stopped by and said goodbye to one female friend that was special to me, I stopped by the bank where my business account was to empty that out, and I got on Interstate headed for “home”.

I didn’t even have a U-Haul trailer just yet, I made my first visit back home with my cash and the clothes on my back, leaving an apartment with a third of my stuff in place.  Once I established residency back in Louisiana, I drove the 700 plus miles each way a second time to pick up the little bit of crap I could sneak out of her house without her knowing.

I was pretty bold back then, to even try to sneak my shit out of her house when I was waiting on a court date where she agreed to drop any charges that she had made up to begin with.  Alexis not only lied to get me arrested, but she also lured me back to her house, to call the cops again, to have them catch me there and lock me up for violating a restraining order.

The first arrest was traumatic enough, but when she tricked me into coming over there just to get me arrested again, she just helped me to make up my mind to leave her and that business far behind as quickly as possible.  The second arrest was so much worse, because I was already violating a ‘bond condition’, so I had to hire a second lawyer to get me out the second time, after having to stay in there for five days.  The first arrest, I was in lock up overnight.  The second arrest, I was in general population for almost a week.

The first lawyer was just for the divorce, and he tried to tell me that he could get me out of jail, but by the third day I was on the phone with another lawyer,  paying $3000 on a credit card that I would never pay back.  It’s wild, I never declared bankruptcy, but because I left the state of Florida and never allowed any credit agency to know where I was for seven years, nearly $20,000 was dropped right off the credit report.  No bankruptcy lawyer needed, or wanted.  I had enough with lawyers, and now I realize after all that stuff why people make such cruel jokes about them.

“What do you call a thousand lawyers at the bottom of the sea?  A good start.”

I know that I got away without having to pay that credit off, which is good for me, but at the same time, Alexis was able to continue to collect any profit from the business I created for years after I left.  It is a good thing she was so fucking ignorant and lazy about how to go about doing that, because her websites all started to go downhill once I left.  People actually noticed, I still get occasional notes to this day.

The websites are still there.  Someone purchased or was given the business “Bigger And Better Inc” and they continue to keep fatfantasy.net and biggerandbetter.net going to this day.  I have lifted a few photos from there to show proof that it was me right there next to Alexis when that business was at it’s height.

I spent a whole year after I came back to Louisiana just getting my shit together.  I had to get a job, I eventually had to replace the truck, and I had to find a place to live that didn’t do a credit check so that they would not find me to try to get a judgement, and so the apartment considering me would not see that I had just broken a lease in Florida to get the fuck out of there.  I was only in that apartment for a few weeks, and left it cleaner than I found it, but they were entitled to make me buy myself out of the lease because I did sign one.

So, $20,000 in credit card debt, and a $4000 penalty for not finishing a lease.  I got off cheap.  A few years later, I would fuck up and skip filing income taxes for 2 years, so I did pay an extra $2000 for fucking up like that.  I was still lucky in that case, because after spending years paying that off, I made a call and requested “penalty abatement” and I actually got out of paying the last $1000.  Again, no scumbag fucking lawyer required for me to reduce my tax liability.

It would probably take them quite a while to get around to auditing me, because I was so fucking honest with them to take on that kind of penalty, pay it off, and keep taxes paid up every year since.  I even keep receipts that could be legit business expenses but I don’t claim them, so if I am ever audited, I may actually be found to be wrong *IN MY FAVOR*.  I’m sure they don’t get that too often!

It took me a whole year to run into a woman who happened to work with phone sex.  She also had a website going, but she was buying skinny content and creating a website to resell it.  She was probably doing ok back then with that, because there weren’t tens of thousands of porn sites in existence just yet.  This was 2001.

More importantly, there still weren’t very many BBW specific porn sites, and virtually no porn sites that specialized in SSBBW.  When I first met Dia, she had never modeled, even though she had an eloquent feminine figure that happened to include FF cup breasts.

Dia was already in the adult mindset, she just never realized how powerful her body type was, until she met me.  She hadn’t done much research on the BBW niche’, even though she had been working in phone sex for years already before I even met her.  While I was getting myself into all kinds of shit in Florida, she was sitting back making cash just talking dirty on the phone.

I would have thought right then and there that I had met my future forever partner.  There was an issue though.  Me.  The experience I had been put through with Alexis, at that age, with that much loss, created a PTSD like syndrome where I became obsessed with getting credit for my work in Florida, and better, creating something all new that was all mine.

With Dia’s help, I got some pointers on design, and I was able to create a much more attractive site than fatfantasy.net ever was.  I also pulled out 21 cd’s full of images from Florida and went to work using those to build my all new site, hotbbws.com.

Within just a few months, the checks started coming.  My work had only been seen on one site before, so it wasn’t long before my photos started to get attention and make money.  My site was prettier than her’s, even though looking at it now, it is not nearly as fancy as the current corporate assortment of bbw and ssbbw related porn sites.

I like to say that the prettier the site, the less content there probably is.  I think that is a really correct assumption when I see the high quality design capability of some webmasters combined with models that quit after a few months, or are way too lazy to create new content on a regular basis!

I was so driven, but it was by revenge.  I wanted revenge on Alexis, but not in the typical way that some people go crazy and destroy shit or hurt people.  I saw a slogan on a daytime talk show before I ever left Florida where someone said “The best revenge is doing better.”

I could have taken my own advice back when Candy left both times, because I acted a damn fool online, and seemed to get off on making hurtful comments just to disturb people.  It took me months after Candy left to attempt to get revenge by “doing better”, and by that time, I had already done too much damage to ever fully recover socially online.

I was crazy motivated to find new models in addition to using all this content I had.  I was lucky to have photographed releases, ID’s, as well as about 2 dozen plus different bbws and ssbbws.  I didn’t have any of the video, even though I was in almost all of them, and there were at least 2 dozen hardcore videos too.  That was back in the days of VHS, before the internet had a prayer of ‘streaming’ a whole porn, television show, or movie.

That was back in the days of DSL and T1 lines.  Alexis had invested in a T1, but once cable internet came out, that shit was totally obsolete.  I bet that fucking woman kept paying hundreds a month for years on that shit, because the websites were hosted in a fucking garage.

Once I moved back to Louisiana, cable internet was available, and pretty cheap, and I was able to take full advantage of it.  It was not long though, before Alexis saw what I was doing, got jealous, and went fucking crazy to knock my shit down.  She harassed my hosting company, my internet billing company, and got me shut down by just being fucking annoying.  These days I know it is not quite as easy to get someone closed down without a fight, because the companies that exist today are much more stable than the ones back then.

For example, my host was shitty, and over priced.  My billing company was fucking GLOBILL.  If you do any research on them, they fucking ripped off hundreds of people for thousands of dollars when the last fucking check they mailed out bounced, and people who had thousands of dollars coming in a month were FUCKED.  To my knowledge, Globill never fully paid back any of the poor fucks they stole that money from.  I hope those fuckers still have problems because of that shit.

It wasn’t long before IBILL went down next, and that was the company Alexis used.  I was lucky to have been so fucking pissed at Alexis I would choose CCBILL before ever going to IBILL, JUST BECAUSE ALEXIS FUCKING USED THEM.

All this time a lot of other shit went down though.  After Alexis got hotbbws.com version one shut the fuck down, I had to switch over to using all my own content, which luckily, I had been working on for a fucking year by then.  Unluckily for Dia and me, my obsession to get new content pissed her off.  She was too jealous at that time to understand my absolute need to find other models and pick up where I left off in Florida.

There was a point one day when I had made plans to photograph someone, and Dia was ok with it at first, but of course, we got into an argument right before I was supposed to leave.  I was still so fucked up from Florida.  I was doing all of this shit just to get back at Alexis, and prove that all that fucking work was mine.  I didn’t even care about the fucking money, I just wanted credit for all that fucking work!

Little did I know at the time, if I could have afforded a lawyer, I could have shown that because I was the photographer, I had rights to use that work, and I could have further sued her for damages in getting me shut down.  Either way, I fucking hated lawyers, and I didn’t want to fight her.  In fact, soon after I got to Louisiana, I cut off all contact with her so that I could not be accused of harassment back in the days before “stalking” existed.

The argument with Dia was heated, and she was so pissed at one point that she said something that I could never forget, and could not accept at the time after Florida.  She said “Do you know how easy it would be to kill you in your sleep?”

Now, if it was me in the present, I would give her suggestions on exactly how to go about doing that without it hurting me or fucking up and leaving me alive and fucked up.  I have that kind of sense of humor, and now I am old enough to welcome death as long as it’s not too painful and I don’t have too much time to suffer.

Back then, I was still traumatized from Alexis.  That bitch had me thinking at one point that people wanted to blow up her house, people were following me, she had mafia affiliations, people were being kidnapped and tortured for information, and we were in debt to an organization that was providing protection.

All that was such stupid bullshit, and I was such a fucking dumb fuck to believe it for a second.  I let that foolishness go on for about 3 weeks, and one night, I got fed up.  Alexis sent me to what was supposed to be a 24 hour post office, and she gave me fucked up directions, and I was in the middle of nowhere.  I hate wild fucking goose chases!  I pulled up to a payphone, and at the risk of being shot in the head right then and there, I made one phone call.  I called her bluff by risking my very life.

That’s what I mean when I say that Alexis put the fear of death in to me while there.  It was only 3 weeks, and I was the one to blame for believing such an outrageous set of lies.  I still have the micro cassettes that I used to bug her phone after she pulled that shit, just to see what other fucking shit she would come up with.

I let my mother listen to those tapes before she died, and she was on “team Thomas” after that.  She sat back and listened to Alexis talk to another woman about how she knew an ex cop and could have me “taken care of”.  That, and a few other statements, provided more than enough encouragement for me to get the fuck out of there.  When confronted, Alexis would claim that she knew I had the phone bugged and she said that shit to bait me.

She was a liar, but she was too fucking stupid to get over on me once I busted her compulsive, pathological liar ass.  I know that shit was for real, because there was another conversation with her son in law, who was a cop, about how a “pattern of arrest” could show a pattern of domestic abuse, and enable her to forcefully push me out of the home, the marriage, and the business.  She didn’t need to do all that shit.  All she had to do was ask me to fucking leave.

On another conversation, she talked to someone else about how she had everything “set up” to take over, but she needed my help, and she needed my work ability.  I once told Alexis when I knew shit was going downhill that when I finally had enough and left, it would take five different people to do “my job”.  To this day, I still believe that to be absolutely true, because i have listed off the many jobs I have to do in another post somewhere I don’t want to stop to dig up.

Before I finally left, before the last court date that would free me forever from her, I had a conversation with her about how I am “out of control” and maybe I should just go back home and leave everything to her.  She started crying, begging, pleading for me to stay because she “needed my help”.

I told her that I had a few conversations with her friends that revealed some wild shit.  That was the cover I used to avoid telling her that I was still bugging the fucking phone.  It was a lot easier to bug a land line phone than it would be to bug a cell, but I imagine even that is not impossible, or very difficult.  The fact that I was even compelled to go to a “spy store” in 2000 and buy a voice activated micro cassette recorder and a microphone cable that plugged into a phone jack with a double phone jack plug let me know that shit was out of control already and I had to get out.  I was just looking for a reason by the time I was waiting months for my second court date after spending five fucking days in jail and blowing $3000 to get my ass out.

I have to wonder how long it took for Debbie to call Alexis when I stopped by her work to tell her I was on my way “home”.  I was really telling both “Little Debbie” and “Big Debbie” at the same time because they worked together.  They had both modeled, and I had been filmed having sex with both of them.  Alexis would be the only one to see that money after I left, except for the $3000 that I pulled out of the business account and kept in my sock on the drive home.

Back to Dia though for a moment.  When Dia told me just how easy I could be murdered, potentially by her, while I was sleeping, it was too much at that time for me to accept.  I still regret bringing her to that state of anger myself.  The real irony is in the fact that the woman I went to see could not even take photos because her relatives here staying in a trailer near by, or some bullshit.  That fucking bitch made me drive nearly an hour each way to tell me that shit instead of letting me cancel online.  She caused me to literally kick Dia out of my apartment for saying what she said because she was rightfully angry and upset at me.

I didn’t just put Dia out on the street.  I was still friends with my second ex wife Stori at the time.  Stori appears on hotbbws.com too, but only in the member’s area, because she wanted to be “discreet”.  I was way too agreeable as a fucking pornographer back then!  I would tell Dia that I would stay with Stori, and she could take as long as she needed to get her shit together and get the fuck out.  I still can’t fucking believe I did that to her.

Because I was so driven at the time to replace my work lost in Florida, and then lost a second time at hotbbws.com, I had to do it.  I don’t think I could do that to her now if I was in that situation all over again.  I still feel badly about it, and I resent Alexis more because of how badly she fucked me up over there.  I really should have gotten counseling for that shit, and so much other shit to follow!

Dia took about a week to two weeks to prepare, and I took her to the bus station, and she went “somewhere”.  I don’t even remember now, because she is not where she went at this time.  I still talk to her online, and have talked to her by phone, and I have apologized profusely for doing that to her back then.  I just could not handle it.  I was so fucked up.  She had a quick temper, and odds are, I would have pulled some shit sooner or later that would have caused us to break up.  I still think she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure and privilege of photographing.

Dia at hotbbws.com

Dia at hotbbws.com

I am fortunate that she is so gracious and forgiving, so that I can still count her among my friends, even if she is so very far away like all of the closest ones, except for Candy.  I still maintain bbwdungeon.com as an ad for her phone sex, which she still freaking does.  Exoticbbw.com was originally her’s, and she gave it to me when she decided she wanted to stick with phone sex over websites.

Bbwdungeon.com was once a member site, but I could not sustain the costs of hosting it back when I had really shitty hosting.  Thankfully the hosting issue is resolved, so I can finally add shitloads of stuff to all the sites.  The problem with me lately is the block I have in working with hotbbws.com or lots2luv.com.  The reasons for that block are partially explained somewhere else I’m sure, and explaining it again here would drag me way off course, more than I already am.

I hit over 4k in words so far, and now I think I have gotten myself kind of lost.  I realize that I had to come back to Dia, after going way off course with Alexis, and then Stori, and of course Candy.  There is something I realize is vitally important to go with all of this, and I still haven’t figured out the title of this post just yet, but my stream of consciousness writing always seems to come full circle, eventually.

Because Dia was so fucking hot and my paranoid ass dropped her, I had to find more models.  I was working full time as a computer tech with the small shop I worked at before going to Florida, before upgrading from that job to a tech job in New Orleans that I hated having to drive to, park for, and hated them for giving me shit when I failed a drug test 3 months into working for them, as they casually said they “forgot” to do it pre-employment.

That is a whole other fucking story right there, because the fact that they pulled that shit encouraged me to move to Florida and start fatfantasy.net instead of having to suck a boss’s dick every day.  They couldn’t just fire me because they failed to give me the drug test before hiring me and paying me for 3 fucking months.  They just wanted to give me a shitty assignment in http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chalmette,_Louisiana, which I wasn’t fucking having.

It’s bad enough that these assholes made me come to work the day that hurricane “George” hit in 1998, and left me stranded in a Bourbon Street bar watching television until the water went down so I could see if my fucking truck got flooded while parked under interstate.  Luckily, the truck was ok, the shoes weren’t.

Anyway, anybody who has heard about hurricane Katrina knows what happened to Chalmette.  If the drive to New Orleans every fucking day and evening wasn’t bad enough, they wanted me to go another half hour to fucking shitty Chalmette.  I would be a computer tech in an oil refinery having to wear a fucking biosuit.

That is an important fact to keep in mind, because that fucking computer company influenced me to move to Florida to begin with, and start my life of being a fat fetish ‘pornographer’ forever.

Also, on a side note, those alleged ‘flushes’ to help you pass a drug test DON’T FUCKING WORK.  DON’T FUCKING TRY IT.  USE SAFE PISS.  I was asked by a co-worker when word got around that I failed the drug test “Why didn’t you bring in someone else’s piss like everybody else does?”  Too honest for my own fucking good.

I didn’t fuck up like that when I got a job at CompUSA.  I was so lucky to have a friend that didn’t smoke weed!

Back to the point.  Because I had to dump Dia because I was a paranoid little bitch, I had to find other models.  I did just that.  Over the course of the next year I would end up luring at least a half dozen bbws and ssbbws to taking photos.  I had to weed through the ones who didn’t want to sign a release and just have sex.  I had to avoid the ones who just wanted “personal pics”.  I had to focus on finding the ones who would let me copy their ID, and sign a fucking model release, and not bitch months later for me to remove them because they are a dumb ass who told the wrong person and they told the really wrong person.

I stumbled upon Candy around that time.  Candy would be the death of me and my ambition to find as many models as I could, eventually.  We met in early 2002, we were living together by the end of 2002, and we stayed in an open relationship “with conditions” until feb of 2008.  I was able to “hook up” with a woman if she was willing to give up the ID and sign a release and be on my websites.  That was the only condition.

That meant certain types of women who would inevitably contact me were off limits.  A good example of that is “teachers”.  I can’t tell you how many times I got an email from a teacher who said “I used to model but I started teaching and…” and i quit fucking reading.   Sorry.  Not really.  Next.

Now, I sit back and watch wave after wave of new models coming into the picture, doing some work, quitting, then appearing in stolen images used to promote dating sites.  Every time I see a brand new bbw or ssbbw model doing this or that, I sit back and wait until she quits, or has weight loss surgery, or both.

No matter who just started, or who just quit, there is always another wave of new models coming in and going out.  Some of the ones going out like to stick around in the periphery of porn, by running group parties or annual conventions.  They are still relevant to the bbw scene, but they still quit.

It is so ironic, that I had to reject and dump so many women over the course of my life to find, lose, and recover Candy.  Once I met Candy, I was doomed.  I must have fallen in love with her instantly, because I tried to “return her” back to where I found her, but after a few months, she always re-appeared.

Even when she left for 4 months and then for 8 months, I remained obsessed, because there could never be another woman who had the effect on me she did instantly, and further, I had never met another woman who cared enough about my own agenda to let me have it without greedy or jealous emotional restraint.

Once I was ready to give up all other women, I realized internally that I was giving up my old technique in finding new models too.  In a way, I kind of “quit” myself, but I didn’t, because I still have her.  As many times as I have lost her, i knew, that even if I came across a woman who was similar, there was no way to build up that kind of history with someone else.  At 46 years old, I don’t think I have time to go through all of that over again and still be young enough to physically do the shit by the time I did.

I did meet one woman while Candy was gone, that I already went into great detail about.  She is the unnamed ssbbw that I showed in the last post.  I realized as I re-read the previous post that I said I never used a single photo of her in the 4 years that I had them.  By posting her here, I just did.

By bringing up hotbbws.com and lots2luv.com I am kicking myself for not working on them more already.  I don’t care about the money, I care about the unused content that sits on DV tapes in a back room closet.  I have a computer that I set up with a firewire card just because of that camera and those tapes.  I have hours of tapes of the unnamed ssbbw and I will be glad if 4 years in time travel didn’t fuck those tapes up.

Dia at hotbbws.com

Dia at hotbbws.com

I had to add another photo, the last one was after sex, so I’m sure it was not as flattering as this one.  This photo was shot in an apartment in Metairie, Louisiana.  If I had not moved to Las Vegas the last time when I did, I would have been holding Candy’s hand walking out of this apartment in 4 feet of water during hurricane Katrina.

Fate is a funny thing.  Showing Dia at that apartment reminds me that I lived in Vegas before, and I was fucking lucky to have packed everything in that shitty car and have the exhaust scrape the interstate on nearly every big bump because of how all that shit and Candy’s huge ass was weighing that crappy car down.  The transmission didn’t last too long after that 2 way trip 2000 miles each way.

The only woman I met when Candy was gone that impressed me nearly as much as her was married and living with her husband and kid.  I am still shocked  that she did the ID and release, and I really should have added her sooner.  Maybe I was worried that with her living situation she might come back on me to remove her.  Now 4 years has passed, maybe she forgot about it altogether. 🙂

unnamed ssbbw

unnamed ssbbw

Now I have used 2 images of this unnamed SSBBW.  There is hope I can overcome the block I mentioned before with the 2 inactive sites.  This woman is far too impressive to sit on my drive forever.

Just like I said before, no matter how many new models start, or older ones quit, there is always another wave, even if they took photos over 4 years ago! 🙂

 

 

 

ssbbw candy godiva is stuffed

agendas

0

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.

 

ssbbw candy godiva is stuffed

candy godiva is so stuffed ssbbw

forced addiction transfer or FAT

0

It has been quite a while…  Even now, I want to do something else, so maybe for once, I can keep it short and sweet…

I have been drifting off into never land with all my wild thoughts and potentially irrational assumptions for a long time.  I have decided that I may have to return to this activity, even if a part of me wonders what it is all about after I have created hundreds of posts that are tens of thousands of words long, and then delete all of it and start over again…

A part of ‘this place’ is going to be about ‘me’, and another part of it is going to be some serious shit that I seem to come up with involuntarily and almost compulsively bombard Candy with to the point where she literally has a head ache…  I need to put it here, and stop giving Candy migraines…  And, stop bugging people on the face book… 🙂

I have had a ‘bug up my ass’ for a very long time about the ‘weight loss surgery’.  I have read extensively, comprehended partially, and asserted my opinions rather randomly, for a long, long time now…  None of it seemed to really make much sense probably, and I was too lazy to even go back and re read any of it myself.  I am sure I would find some of it brilliant, some of it stupid, and some of it just drunk rambling nonsense…  None of that matters now, because it is gone… All of it… Maybe a part of me thought it was such shit that I had to start over.  I believe a prior post addressed the possibility that I created it all just to delete it years later and confuse the fuck out of anyone who even noticed any of it was going on at all…

I have googled the term “forced addiction transfer”, and I welcome you to do the same.  It is ironic, at least to me, that as I google this term, I am ‘obesity biased’ because of my prior experience and rather confusing sexual fixation on super morbidly obese human females.  It should have come as no surprise that as I attempt some feeble research on the seemingly random string of words, I find several references to weight loss surgery.

I thought for a second I might be re-inventing the wheel, and I would have found some result, somewhere in that very first page, where those words were strung together, and google would even provide a convenient bold type on those words and a short paragraph before and after them.  As it turns out, that wasn’t the case.  Maybe if I dug just a little deeper before bragging about my discovery on face book, I could have found other connections to this phenomenon that have been very well documented and carefully considered in some random ‘fat blog’ somewhere on the internets…

I saw ‘junk food science’ come up, of course, a professionally written, beautiful in all of it’s effort and eloquent in the writer’s style and thorough investigation.  Of course that writer would dive into this topic, because they are such a logical match of psychological phenomenon.  My own issues with self discipline, self control, addiction, and compulsive behavior would help me to understand more about what the words “addiction transfer” actually mean, from a very real perspective of experience and pain.

I may have written about and deleted previously issues that I developed when I became worried about the legal liability of using one drug and subsequently switched over to a more legally acceptable one.  This would have pleased ‘society’, but unfortunately, the woman that I consciously or sub-consciously choose to love would not be able to handle this change on a deep emotional level.  Her prior experience with users of this legally accepted alternative caused her great emotional distress, up to and maybe beyond what one would call “PTSD”.   What was worse than her having this condition was her own lack of understanding of it.  If she could not get to the bottom of what was making her such a bitch, all I could do was evolve, adapt, and attempt to compromise.

There could be no compromise between two people who both refused to give up their ‘drug of choice’ just because it was emotionally inconvenient for both of them…  This caused much greater pain and tragedy for both parties, and I acted out in ways that I have not experienced for over a decade when I felt someone ripped me off and stole my money, my credit, and my very “artwork” for a year’s time.  Of course, later I would realize that all of that mess was my own fault because of my bad decisions and young dumb judgement…  I paid, I learned, I matured, I moved on.

One day while watching Dr. Phil of all people (it’s almost painful to even type it), I saw him say that you can’t break a bad habit, you can only replace it with a constructive activity.  The way I interpreted that was, the ability to switch over from one bad compulsion to another bad compulsion is “addiction transfer”.  Switching over from one negative compulsion to a “good” one is thought to be “breaking a bad habit”.  It is painfully, blatantly obvious that in order to really solve all those issues entirely would be to figure out exactly what about the human mind causes some people to be more compulsive than others, and then, how do we specifically address compulsive behavior and “addiction” without being clouded by greed and a desire to mold the media’s message in a way that we create a “rehab society”.  Rehab from sex addiction, rehab from drugs, rehab from behaving badly.

It troubles me to know, deep down, that this rehab society has turned to the “dark side” where obesity and the compulsion of over eating is involved.  I realize that there is so much more money to be made so much faster by cutting someone open rather than digging into their mind.  It is also painfully obvious to me that the total lack of interest in digging into the ‘obese mind’ is due to the fast cash to be made by desperate people who are willing to have perfectly healthy organs cut out and altered in order to control behavior.

In my personal experience, as I sit and type this, I am stopping myself from wasting time entirely by playing a long, complex, and involved video game.  When I decide to sit in that game, I am stopping myself from bombarding some useless and pointless face book page with random thoughts.  When I am particularly distressed, this behavior can even begin to creep onto others with emails and little posts on this or that “thread” of conversation that I am not really invited to join.  In doing all of that, I would also inadvertently be avoiding the thought of drinking alcohol, because I seem to really enjoy getting intoxicated on alcohol just past the point where my partner is comfortable.  The ‘compulsive’ aspect of my behavior is simply that I won’t restrict myself from it’s use entirely, but when I do allow myself to have it, I know there is a certain point within a certain level of intoxication where I will want to consume more than I set out to before I started drinking to begin with.

Candy would argue this makes me “alcoholic”, and I could agree that this is a problem.  At this same time, I am not physically dependent on alcohol because of several reasons.  It is not my “drug of choice” to begin with.  It is a drug that I turned to in an effort to use “addiction transfer” in a positive way to reduce the legal liability of using my real drug of choice, which is a plant, which is a true tragedy in and of itself considering that it is not physically addictive.  I do not have a “craving” for alcohol when I do not have it in my possession, but when I do get it, I tend to get enough so that I will have two “doses”.  The internal test once I have it is if I can stop myself when under it’s influence from digging into that second day’s worth, eliminating the second day’s total potential effect, and therefore, taking the second potential day of it’s use away from myself in the process of violating a rule I made for myself while sober.

I realize that this is very similar to the way that Candy gets chinese take out.  She would typically buy enough to have two day’s worth.  The problem is, she would actually consider having two huge servings on the first day, and maybe just a little left over for a second day.  Candy can’t get the same “rush” on a subsequent day because she will always consume more than half on the first day.  While she makes the accusatory assumption that I am just “an alcoholic”, she is engaging in the very same behavior, and over time, this behavior would contribute to her potential immobility, and shortened mortality.

When considering “addiction transfer”, and my own ability to guide my compulsive behaviors into activities that could be more constructive, positive, and beneficial for my own future, I have to consider that my addiction transfer “technique” is voluntary.  When I consider just how many things I have turned to in order to satisfy some compulsive behavior to do something “too much”, I realize that there is no one substance or activity that could “be enough” to ever really solve the appetite of the compulsive mind.  The simple realization of this helps me to guide that energy towards areas of my life that need improvement, and obviously self discovery.

In a way, I realize that my recent use of the phrase “automatic addiction transfer” seemed to switch on a light, and give me ideas about how “rehab tech” has remained the same forever without having to evolve for the changing marketplace of “brand new addictions” coming along left and right.  Abstinence is the only conclusion by a rehab society in a phase of our history where obesity is the new “moral panic” for whatever reason, and the media creates more and more obesity hysteria as they cash in on advertising products meant to “help”.  All the while they ignore one inconvenient pathological factor to obesity, ad 36. The “fat virus” that you never hear about on the news as you hear people rant about obesity on a daily or weekly basis.  That is another post entirely, but it kind of fits in, as I am already tempted to wrap this up, but realize it is way too in depth to cover “right now”.

I am lucky that I was able to fight any form of compulsive eating behavior from an early age.  I was “chubby” when I was a kid, but I started working from the month that I turned old enough to work, and that amount of activity and a few small changes helped me to reach what would be considered an “average” weight.  There were several motivating factors for this, the very first would be “girls”.  Because I realized at an early age I was attracted to women who are “larger” to say the least, I felt that I should make myself as physically appealing as possible in order to increase my probability of successfully meeting and of course fucking some really big fat chicks in my life.

Until I reached a certain emotional plateau, I didn’t realize that my super fat sexual conquests were actually compulsive behavior as well.  Even through three marriages, I never met someone that I could really place a deep emotional attachment on until I was in my 30’s.  Once that emotional attachment took place, I could voluntarily become monogamous even though I had the option to remain in an “open relationship” like some old creepy “swingers”.

I just didn’t want it anymore.  I didn’t enjoy searching for, flirting with, seducing, fucking, and filming other women anymore.  Once there was a real emotional connection to someone I had never felt, everything changed.  I would still be afflicted with other compulsive behaviors, but screwing any big giant fat woman who let me would no longer be one of them.  I believe that was a form of “automatic addiction transfer”, because I went from one compulsion to fuck all kinds of fat women and film it all to put on my website, to a much darker, much more difficult, and much more emotionally tedious and impossible task of really pleasing just one woman.

When I came up with the idea of “Forced Addiction Transfer”, or FAT, it was out of frustration and the great sense of pain I feel when I realize that people who modify their otherwise healthy, working, cancer free internal organs in order to change just one compulsive behavior are being used as test subjects in order to embrace forced addiction transfer as a viable way of extracting money from obese people.  Notice I did not say “as a viable way of curing obesity”, because the cure for all obesity is in the head, not in the gut.  People who dig in our heads are very expensive though, and they take a long, long time.  Bariatric surgery is so much cheaper in the long run, yet it obviously has greater profit potential up front.  Surgery is to make money, not to cure obesity.

Surgery creates what I believe is an inhumane psychological condition of forced addition transfer, or FAT.  This is why it is so well documented that many post surgicals become alcoholics, or drug users.  Without addressing the underlying causes of compulsive behavior, it appears to me, an uneducated “sexual dimorphist”, that initiating forced addiction transfer through any surgery that restricts natural ability to “eat” is simply piling on.  This creates an even more intense need to fulfill the compulsive behavior through another avenue.  The choice will probably be made early, in the first few weeks of adapting to having a compulsive behavior that cannot be fulfilled without greater pain, misery, suffering, complications, and maybe even death.

This is why in my opinion, any surgery to address compulsive behavior is going to have horrible long term effects.  These effects will not simply be felt by the ones who have had the surgery alone.  The singular decision to have surgery will effect everyone connected to the individual, because all acquaintances will be forced to adapt along with the individual to this cruel experimental rehab technique.  We live in a rehab society that survives through it’s consistent message of abstinence.  By selling people surgery as a “cure”, we are telling them that they are beyond all hope of psychological help in addressing their underlying compulsive behaviors.  Because they are both the perpetrator and the victim, they must be punished, even if it means executing the cruelest possible punishment on one’s self.

If the entire rehab model works on abstinence, it is particularly cruel from my perspective to encourage people to become “surgical anorexics”.  While I watch media, I pay particular attention to those who attempt to discourage anorexia with a straight face.  If we live in an abstinence based rehab model society, then we must encourage the super morbidly obese to become anorexic to “fix them”, even if it means forcing them to become anorexic through surgery.  I don’t know about “most people”, but I think all of this is sick.  I have to hope that my own obesity bias doesn’t contribute to a feeling that I was more right than I ever wanted to be when I saw this strategy as “shrink’em or kill’em”.

I have been typing the words “obesity conspiracy” a few times on face book here and there as well.  While that is a topic that could not possibly be covered in just one post, I would like to associate this one issue with that larger “system”.  While it is easy to dismiss anyone who hypothesizes the existence of any alleged conspiracy as a complete nut bag, there is so much data to suggest that “something is going on behind the scenes”, that it is almost impossible to ignore.  It goes a lot deeper than medical device manufacturers that made a whole lot of quick cash and now want to sell the obesity division because the profits are down after this “low mortality rate” surgery started killing people one after another in Los Angeles a few years back.  I’m sure they would not mind dumping the division before all the class action suits come in as well.  After a few more years passes, they will.

Forced Addiction Transfer theory is very real, and it started from the minute some surgeon figured out that he could cut out some guts, make some cash, and the “patient” or “test subject” would lose weight.  For as long as this type of human vivisection has existed, studies to figure out what happens up to five years after having surgery were only just recently released.  The results were not quite as “cure” as the medical community wanted, and that is why you have seen the effort to sell surgery toned down considerably.  It still exists, but now it is limited to those who can “pay up front” and those who are not paying at all.  The ones who are not paying at all have much higher rates of complications and death, because this is just the excuse a doctor needs to eliminate one more social security recipient.  Sad, crazy sounding, and hopefully for all of us, Not true at all…

 

 

 

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