HNT

Way, way back - or what seems like way, way back anyway - when I first started this blog, I was encouraged by our dearly departed Unfurling to post pictures of myself. The thought alone made me faint. Sure, there is the pesky little issue of anonymity - which I've said before is more for the protection of my partners than myself - but as long as I'm being honest with you all I might as well confess that the real underlying issue is that I just don't feel like anyone would find my body sexy or beautiful.

I've always been a big girl. Ever since I can remember my boobs were more droopy than perky (they're on a slow migration to my arm pits as a girlfriend in college once described them). And my tummy is lopsided and droopy too. I'm covered in stretch marks and I don't even have big tits or a plump ass to make up for my lack of curves. I've always struggled to love my plump droopy self. My smart brain gets it - that there are no "good" bodies or "bad" bodies - but my dumb brain doesn't. On the surface of it I come off as confident and comfortable in my body. But it doesn't take much digging and poking to see there's a lot more to the story just under the surface.

This past year has been an interesting one in that I've both gained a lot of self confidence in myself as a sexual being and I've also lost some as well. It has been wonderful to find that there are lots of people out there who enjoy having sex with me. But it has been heart breaking as well to realize that it is indeed still true that the majority of folks would never consider a fat chick beautiful. Sure, they might fuck me. Sure, they might like fucking me. They might even like me. But chances are they don't like fucking me, or like me, because they think I'm hot.

Now, before you go and correct me, before you reprimand me for my self doubt, consider this: I have had exactly two lovers tell me that I am beautiful. Papi and Chico. And we all know that Chico was lying like a rug. So that leaves Papi. Now, I know that other lovers have loved me. And even enjoyed having sex with me. And perhaps found me attractive. But the fact that I'm turning 40 in less than a month and I've only heard "you're beautiful" from one qualified lover, well, that says a lot. It is kind of hard to tell yourself you're beautiful, and to believe it, when you're (almost) the only one saying it. The irony is that I find chubby chicks to be really hot. Just not myself.

This stuff goes way back. To play grounds and buss stops and best friend's backyards. Back to the boy I lost my virginity to. My highschool sweetheart. He was skinny as a stick and grungy and sort of funny looking but I adored him and thought he was incredibly sexy. After we made love for the first time, my first time, he turned to me and said "don't you think it's special that I love you even though I don't find you attractive?" Uh, yeah?

Anyhow, a few weeks ago I was thinking about all those bloggers out there who post on HNT and wishing for the life of me that I could find one plain, middle aged, chubby chick joining in the fun. Fuck but I would love to see a plain, middle aged, chubby chick HNT webring! I considered posting a picture of myself, but then I thought better of it. I figured those of you who read my blog might get more into the stories when you can imagine me to be in the body of your liking. But you know, the whole point of this blog is to be able to share my struggles as well as my joys... and there are times when the things that bring me joy are the very things I struggle with. Like my body.

Then tonight, peeking around at new blogs through linking to links on the sites of those of you who have left comments here, I came across Dave's pictures of Am in her maid outfit and I thought "finally, a body I can relate to!" And when I read Dave's comments on Am's comments the disconnect resonated deeply. When Papi looked into my eyes and told me I was beautiful the first time we made love I thought surely he was lying even though he had absolutely no reason to. I had already given myself to him without a struggle, as he likes to point out, so what was there to gain? But it is so deeply ingrained in me, this feeling of ugliness and unworthiness, that I couldn't imagine that he could simply be speaking his truth.

Occasionally I have moments when I feel sexy or beautiful or even just acceptable. But they are few and far apart. I would like some day to have a whole hour of feeling beautiful. Then maybe a whole day. A whole week. A month. A year. But for now I would settle for a few minutes every Thursday.