Fat positive portraits

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Fatass

Kate Bachus

Let me explain to you what I mean by that term.

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I was outside the warehouse at oh dark thirty before my first day at hockey bootcamp. I’d lost the contents of my stomach twice, I was so nervous. I had all the baggage of firefighting on my shoulders and I’d never put on hockey gear before. 

This hot, athletic teenage hockey star dude was getting me gear. You know what that’s like?  Having some eighteen year old athlete go through gear to give you?

“I have a fat ass,” I said. Because I didn’t think any gear they had was going to fit me and I was an out of shape old woman who had never played hockey before.

“Big ass, more power,” he said, and handed me a pair of hockey pants. They fit.

Lesson learned.

*

140 pounds didn’t do me much good for firefighting. I…

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Little victories

Fierce, Freethinking Fatties

Struggling against oppression is endless. The trolls never stop, and you are fighting culture, bias, the government, and sometimes even your own doctor just to stand up for your right to simply exisist as yourself. Sometimes I feel like this site’s cheerleader, with recent posts like this and this. But guys, recently really we are making up more and more ground in the culture wars. Two cases in point, both from the fashion industry. First, a change in how our clothes will be made and second a fast sell-out of flabulous swimwear.

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Fat Sex and FAQs

Warning: Mature content.

So the article was called

FAT SEX: what everyone wants to know but is afraid to ask

and it was written by (I kid you not) msvaginascience :

I’m a fat woman. I’m a fat woman who has had lots and lots of awesome sex almost exclusively with partners much smaller than myself. When I met my current partner a year ago, I was at my fattest, about 150 lbs heavier than he is, making our sex the most drastic in terms of size difference relative to my past partners. Most women I know would not be comfortable with that size difference, and in candid moments, friends have asked, “So, how does that work?” The short answer? It works just great and I love it. There are many misconceptions about how fat people have sex, especially when one partner is fat and the other isn’t. I’m here to explore that topic, specifically the issue of being a fat woman having sex with a smaller partner.

I know many women who would love to have sex with smaller partners but feel that it wouldn’t work mechanically, that two drastically different bodies couldn’t come together in a pleasurable way. Additionally, many women who do have smaller partners tell me they don’t totally enjoy sex because they feel self-conscious, embarrassed, or unfulfilled because they can’t “let go” during sex. This brings me to what I feel is one of the most important parts of enjoying sex as a fat woman:

You’ll need to overcome the idea that your partner doesn’t know how fat you are. 

Your partner knows, and guess what? He or she wants to have sex with you. When I was a young chubbette, I remember trying to contort my body into more “flattering” positions while I was having sex, as if my partner didn’t notice my belly was getting paunchy. I’d arch my back, refuse to do positions that made me “feel fat,” and drape different parts of my body with a blanket or pillow to hide my increasingly chubby body. Sometimes that made me feel more at ease, but mostly it became tedious, distracted me from feeling sexy, and annoyed the crap out of my partner who just wanted to see his hot girlfriend naked. Once I became much larger than I’d been before, I simply refused to have the lights on during sex for the same reason — “He won’t know what my body looks like if I don’t show him.” Well, he totally knew how fat I was, and guess what? He still wanted to have sex with me, and what’s more, he loved having sex with me. It took me a long time to realize that my partners were having sex with me in part because of the way my body looks, not in spite of the way my body looks. It sounds simple, I know, but when you spend your whole life being told that fat bodies are not sexy, it takes some time to realize that sexiness isn’t that simple. This understanding is not something that happens overnight for most of us. Hell, it can take years. But, the sooner you learn (yes,learn) to feel sexy just the way you are, the sooner you’ll be able to enjoy your sexuality more fully. Really, this goes for men and women of all sizes, not just fat women.

Irresistible hook and well-written. But, those questions you’ve been afraid to ask. The tricky ones? Still unanswered.

Ms Science –may I call you, Vagina?–  is quick to disclose (okay brag a little) that her sexual experience is limited to partners smaller than herself. So the suggestions and positions are mostly common sense rather than a down and dirty how-to.

I appreciate the coming of age stories of “how I learned not hate myself” but I don’t want them in every fat positive article I read. I want an article that promises information of how to have fat, happy sex to deliver on the promise. I’m reminded of a time when all the lesbian love stories involved an element of self-hatred and how they overcame it, embraced monogamy and got the happy ending. Those of us who aren’t monogamous and self-hating? Just skip to the end.

To paraphrase: if you’re a fat girl who wants to bang skinny boys; it’s easier than you think. If you’re looking for feel good self-talk/love your sexy self (and to be honest, we all want that sometimes) check out these delicious fattie bloggers complete with sexy, smug, full body pix (no soulful eyes or pretty faces) just grrls walking their buttiful talk.

http://www.themilitantbaker.com/2013/03/things-no-one-will-tell-fat-girls-so-i.html

HOW TO HAVE SEX WHILE FAT: A SHORT GUIDE TO SEXY FUN FOR FATTIES AND PEOPLE WHO F#&@ THEM

http://www.xojane.com/sex/sex-with-a-fat-person

Here are my answers to (some) unanswered questions:

1) Fat girl on top? Depends on her knees, fellas.

2) Strap ons for fat/fat pairings? Rather than struggle with the traditional positions and repositioning bellies and shifting harnesses, go for a thigh harness. Then do it in your most comfortable sturdy armchair. You use your hands (and knee) to effect lift and thrust rather than your hips. You can bounce her (or him) on your knee. Do hold on (and/or encourage your partner to hold on to the chair behind you) so s/he falls forward during orgasm. One of the advantages of bed-sex is you seldom fall off.

3) Cunnilingus without losing the plot or blocking your airways? Use both hands. While holding the labia open to expose the clit, I like to keep the thumb of my dominant hand close so that I can switch back and forth when my tongue or jaw start to freeze up. Notice where your index and pointer finger are in this operation. Regardless how deeply involved they may be, the relative inflexibility of your fingers to the floppiness of the flesh thrashing around them, allows you to either use that joint as a nose rest or if you’re a mouthbreather to create a kind of “air pocket” so you can push in/on rather than pull away to catch your breath.

What questions do you still have? Where do you usually go for answers?

Fat, Trans and (Working on Being) Fine With It

Fat, Trans and (Working on Being) Fine With It

Mey

Posted by

on March 28, 2013

click here for more trans*scribe

CLICK HERE FOR MORE TRANS*SCRIBE


One of the scariest things about the early steps of my transition was shopping for clothes. I wasn’t ready to go out in “girl mode,” and even if I was, I didn’t have the clothes to do so. Every time I went into a store I was deathly afraid that the cashier would ask who I was buying the dresses for, that other customers would realize what I was doing, or worst of all, that I would bump into someone I wasn’t yet out to. Even though it should have been fun buying new outfits and picking out clothes that finally reflected who I was and what I liked, it was huge cause of stress in my life.

What made it even worse is that I’m fat.

I’m about six feet tall, I wear a women’s size 12 shoe, and a size 20 dress. So not only do I have to deal with the crippling dysphoria that comes from having a body that I often don’t even recognize as my own, I also have to deal with the cultural misogyny that tells me that a woman can’t be as big and fat as I am and still be desirable.

Photo © Meyllen DJneres

PHOTO © MEYLLEN DJNERES

When I started coming out, I also started getting people telling me that I wasn’t a real woman. I was told that I was claiming God made a mistake, that I was making the wrong choice, that I was kidding myself. I was told that even if I dressed and acted like a woman, because of my genitals or chromosomes, I would always technically be a man. I’ve been able to block most of that out. My friends and family have, almost universally, been incredibly supportive and accepting. They see me as the woman I am. There are still a few comments here and there about “biological women” and “biological men” but I’m learning to manage those. Even though I had learned to ignore people saying I’m not a real woman, I now have to deal with an entirely new criticism of my body. Now that I’ve started presenting as a woman, people feel free to comment on how I look.

best-glasses-sweater-in-the-history-of-life

PHOTO © MEYLLEN DJNERES

Apparently, now my size is fair play. As a guy, the last time I remember someone making fun of me for being fat was in the ninth grade, but as a woman, I get comments on my weight almost every time I post pictures on my blog. Whether it’s someone commenting on one of my photos saying, “And this is why america [sic] has fallen into ruin. You are morbidly obese,” or porn blogs sending me messages saying they would love to see naked pictures of my “sexy fat ass.” As a woman I have to navigate this strange world where people either feel like my fatness is somehow hurting them or exists only to feed their fetish. And it sucks. I already deal with enough body image issues as it is, you know, the whole dysphoria thing, and I really don’t need society’s standards of how big a woman can be to give me more.

I don’t need stores to only carry dresses and pants up to a size 12. I don’t need stores that only carry women’s shoes up to a size 10. In the town I live in there are only two stores that carry a wide selection of women’s clothes that fit me. Building up the courage to get dressed, put on makeup, do my hair and then go out in public to do some shopping only to be told “We don’t have anything in your size” feels like an affirmation of all the times I was told I was a man. I’m lucky if the thrift stores have more than two or three nice things that are my size. If I want new clothes I have to shop online, go out of town, or wait for the stores to restock their supply. It’s not fun. It makes me frustrated with my body. It makes me even more frustrated with the fashion industry that says women who look like me don’t deserve nice clothes.

Photo © Meyllen DJneres

PHOTO © MEYLLEN DJNERES

My dysphoria means that sometimes I look in the mirror or I look at my body and feel sick to my stomach at what hormones have done to me. They have misshapen my genitals, given me hair in all the wrong places, messed up my skeleton, and made my voice sound like it’s coming from someone else. It’s hard to see myself as someone who I can like and love, let alone as someone that another person could like and love. I’ve lost sleep because of how I feel about my body. In the past I’ve even withdrawn from my friends and stopped socializing because of how I feel about my body. But it’s getting better. I’m learning how to not hate what I see. I’m reminding myself that some women are hairier than others, some women have broad shoulders, some women have small boobs. It’s taken me a long time to get to this point. I’m not about to let even more body hate derail that. Yes I’m fat, but that doesn’t mean I have to hate that about my body too. There’s already enough I don’t like. So instead I do my best to embrace my fatness.

It’s tough as hell dealing with so much that tells you you’re not being a woman in the right way. If they’re not attacking you for what’s in your pants or in your genes, they’re attacking your for your height and your waistline. And then when they will accept fat women, they say that they better have curves in all the right places and be a perfect hourglass figure. Well, I’m not. I have broad shoulders, small boobs, a big belly and fat thighs. It hard to love my body sometimes, but it’s still beautiful. It’s still sexy. It’s still desirable. It’s just hard sometimes to see that. That’s why I have to practice purposeful body love. I’ve had to learn an entirely new set of exercises and techniques to deal with an entirely new type of attack on my body.

Photo © Meyllen DJneres

PHOTO © MEYLLEN DJNERES

My body is my own and not here for other’s critique or objectification. Sometimes I need to remind myself of that. Sometimes I get dressed up in one of my favorite outfits and take some pictures, not to share with anyone else, just for myself. Sometime I look at fat fashion blogs and smile at all the other beautiful, amazing, gorgeous women who look like me. Sometimes I go shopping so I can find a dress that I know I look amazing in, despite what other people might think. Sometimes I take a bath, relax and just try to enjoy the feeling of being in my own body. I listen to music by Jill Scott and Aretha Franklin or watch Hairspray. I surround myself with friends who tell me I’m beautiful and compliment me on my looks. I remind myself that looks aren’t everything and that no matter what people think and say about my body I am a smart, talented, creative and powerful woman. It’s taking some time, and sometimes I struggle to love my fat, transgender body, but I’m getting there. I’ve learned that loving my body for all of its fatness has helped me to love my body for all of its transness as well.

Photo © Meyllen DJneres

PHOTO © MEYLLEN DJNERES


About the author: Mey (short for Melínda) is a 26 year old queer trans Latina who lives in Idaho with her cat Sawyer.  She loves scifi, fantasy, horror and comic books.  Her hobbies include reading books and watching movies, going to concerts and being a comedy nerd.  She’s afraid of heights, airplanes and whales.

BlaQueer

Last week at an apartment party in Chicago’s Andersonville neighborhood on the North side, I whipped out my iPhone 5, told the folks at the gathering to press together, and clicked away. Simple act, happens at least a hundred times a day, and I completed the ritual by posting the picture to my instagram and linking it to my Facebook account. But, before I could put the camera away I heard a friend joke, read, throw a little shade (?) my way and say:

“Watch, tomorrow there will be like five picture of himself up there.”

Yes, guilty as charged, I am a selfie. One of those annoying people who take tons of self-pictures. Declaring to the world that I look good and you know it. This is so true that the same friend had earlier brought up the topic with me; apparently he and another friend occasionally discussed my…

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