I’m a Fatty: Heathy, Happy, Juicy and Delicious

This is not another rah-rah fat acceptance article to convince the morbidly obese, sedentary, extreme eaters that they are somehow sexy, healthy, and fabulous. At the beach this week I noticed I have put on a few pounds since last year. My tummy protrudes disproportionately (and always has) from the rest of my body.

Juicy Photo by Cherisse Williams

Juicy Photo by Charisse Williams

It gets much worse when I gain a little extra fat. Genetics plays a role in the shape of my body, but is not the whole story.

A person’s size and shape is a result of a very complex formula that includes genetics, activity level, types and variety of activities done, quantity of food, quality of food, proportional balance of daily protein/carbohydrate/fat intake, hormones, age, gender, and overall health, to name a few factors. This is why the one size fits all weight plans don’t fit most, and why the range of ideal body shapes and sizes is actually very broad. We in the West are under the false belief that if we eat right and exercise that we would all be size 2, when in reality people who eat right and exercise can be a size 2 or size 20 and everywhere in between. The actual numbers her are based on my own unscientific assumption, only to be used as an example, not to be taken as a literal fact, but I’m sure you get the idea.

I am a professional dancer who performs once and teaches twice a week. I work out at the gym 4-5 times per week. I walk or ride my bike to the store often and my friends consider me a high energy person. I live in a 3-story house and run up and down the stairs many times a day. I know others with similar activity levels to mine who are skinny as a rail, which, btw, I honestly prefer not to be.

I am not an emotional eater, who dashes a candy bar in times of daily stress, nor am I a high-fat processed food junkie who eats from a fast food restaurant at least once a week. I love whole, unprocessed foods like fresh fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. I am no vegan or vegetarian and although I care about what I put into my body, I have no food restrictions. Although I don’t always eat in moderation, I never binge. I love food. I eat.

I am plump and juicy like a ripe grape in the summertime and not a miserable emaciated stick figure with sunken cheeks because I am a happy person who has fun. I am probably a little fatter than my ideal because I veered off my normal habits a bit recently. But there is no need for me to fret about it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, but just to get back on track and everything will fall into place. Thank goodness I am not paid as a supermodel or a famous actress to perpetuate women’s self loathing and to maintain standardized image that some woman spend their lives trying to imitate, because I would be under constant stress of being fired! I am paid to help people bring joy and happiness into their lives so I just look the way I happen to look by taking care of my health and enjoying life. Looking good is important to me, but equally so is feeling good and living well.

What is your ideal weight, size, shape, look? Here is the formula:

  • Have some fun every day
  • Don’t eat anything you don’t like
  • Eat the rainbow (colorful fruits and vegetables) every day
  • Generally eat real, whole, unprocessed foods
  • If you love a fatty, sugar, processed junk food, don’t deprive yourself. Eat it every now and then.
  • Be active in other ways than deliberate exercise (like a rat in a wheel)–dance, bike, play rope, skate, goof off with your kids
  • Make sure that the amount of attention you pay to body image is equal to the amount of attention you dedicate developing your brilliant mind; having fun; enhancing skin, hair, tooth, and nail health and beauty; and being prosperous.

If you consciously and consistently do these things for several months, the exact number of months depending on how close to or far from your ideal body size and shape you are when you start, you will wind up at your ideal size and shape. If you do this and never become (notice I did not say “achieve”) size 2, then join the other 97% of us and be happy.

Forget Sex-Positive, Be Sex Neutral

Why must we controversialize everything? I’m just having my morning fruit and yogurt parfait while I read a few blogs this morning and started running across these declarations of “sex positiveness”. Why? If the site is about the joys of sex then we obviously know that it is sex-positive. However, if the site about something like, oh, fat acceptance, then what difference does it make? There is no need be a sex maniac or a prude. I noticed that some peoples’ idea of sex-positive is all freaky, all the time! Beware! That is just yet another smokescreen for and extreme form of our culture’s hypersexualization of everything. Perhaps that is what it should be. For the rest of us ordinary folks who love sensual pleasures in all forms, including but not limited to sex, sex-neutral is more accurate.

In an article for Planned Parenthood on providing sex positive sex education, Lisa Tobin writes that being sex positive includes:

  • Having a comprehensive definition of sexuality
  • Viewing sexual health as a basic human right
  • Focusing on the life-enhancing aspects of sexuality as well as attention to the negative aspects
  • Being non-judgmental and challenging narrow social constructs
  • Using inclusive language rather than value-laden language which makes assumptions based on sexual orientation or gender stereotypes
  • Assisting individuals to be aware of the choices involved in sexual decisions

Sounds pretty neutral to me. Anyway, I am sex neutral. That means all of the above plus I don’t really care whether someone is homosexual, bisexual, heterosexual, transgender, curious, fat and sexy, skinny and sexy, or whatever because it’s not the main idea. Sex neutral just means that there will be no promotion nor condemnation of sexuality. It also means that we treat sexuality like any other thing, without special emphasis. Society at large would be a lot healthier if we all took the sex-neutral approach, especially when it comes to raising our children. Simply by using the proper terms for genitalia, not getting all excited when anything regarding sexuality is mentioned, and without being inappropriate, talking about sex just as ordinarily as we do any other aspect of human life. Just relax already!

You Wanted Erotica, Well Here it is, Ladies!

I did not write this awesome story. I did write a sexy vignette today but I am not ready to release it just yet. So here is one of my favorite erotic stories ever, written by Abigail from Brooklyn NY. Get a cup of tea and sit down. This one is pretty juicy!! Also check out some of her other works at http://www. redbubble. com/people/iamwriter. They are pretty deep. But for now, enjoy!

Two-Way Threesome

By Abigail

Threesome

I heard the elevator reach my floor. That meant my favorite show was about to begin next door, saving me from horrible reality TV. Wednesday night. My neighbor’s husband starts his work week on Wednesday night. I met the couple in the elevator soon after I moved in. She’s a fashion designer. He’s an ER doctor. He does three twelve-hour shifts then he’s off till the following Wednesday. She doesn’t like to be alone. So the stranger shows up. I figure he’s a Sergei or Jacques. That’s the name I’d call out. He’s so handsome. Dark. Thick black hair, smooth face.

He exits the elevator and walks straight to her door. After a brief pause he turns the doorknob and disappears into her apartment. I watch the empty hallway for a few more seconds through my peephole hoping he would reemerge, change his mind. No such luck. Music starts to play. Sounds like Jamiroquai. I wonder who makes the musical selection for their trysts. I would’ve chosen some Oasis; “Fucking in the Bushes,” how appropriate.

I went into the kitchen and decided to put dinner on. I sliced the chicken breast thinly after cutting off the fat. I coated the first piece of chicken in egg and milk. The mixture had the consistency of semen. I put my nose to the bowl and inhaled. The scent was similar – that heavy protein smell. I’ll swallow semen but would never consider tasting what was in that bowl. The first piece of chicken got a generous coating of breadcrumbs and I put it down to rest.

I could hear her moans. She was calling his name this time. Couldn’t quite make it out over Jamiroquai going goo-goo over his cosmic girl. Sounded like a three-syllable name. So he wasn’t a Jacques or Sergei. But he and Jesus were doing a number on her. I envisioned he had her bent over the arm of the couch. Or they were both on their knees, her on all fours. That was one of my favorite positions. I was getting moist between my legs. Chicken goes in egg and milk. Chicken goes in bread crumbs. Chicken placed onto the plate with the rest of the breast pieces awaiting the hot oil. The monotony of my work allowed my mind to wander. Was he holding her by the hair? Did he grab her hips and pull her back into him? I coated my frying pan with about an inch of oil and turned the heat up. Oil dripped down the side of the bottle as I replaced the cap. I wiped it off with my finger and used it to massage my clit.

The chicken breasts were a golden brown. Two shades lighter than my own. I got splashed with hot oil Cherriesripebmp_2 that popped. I wiped the oil off of my arm. It hadn’t stayed on my skin long enough to leave a mark. I took the chicken breast out the pan and blotted them with paper towels. My neighbors were probably using paper towels to clean up his come. At first, the paper towel was rough against her inner thigh. As he would fold it over to uncover a clean section, the sharp edges were dampened by his sweaty palms. I covered the bottom of my baking pan with pasta sauce and then put the chicken breasts down.

I loved the way my body sunk into my couch, right between the cushions. The perfect cradle for my ass. I could lie in the couch watching television and my nipples would get hard. It fascinated me how much glistening, slippery liquid seeped out of me after I’d come. I never get up right away after an orgasm.

The back of the couch was just the right height to put my leg up on. My other leg hung off the couch, my foot on the floor. My clit was now swollen under my fingers. My neighbor probably has a big one as well. I’ve seen her commit just one fashion faux pas: she was coming back from a run and had major camel toe. The seam of her spandex shorts disappeared between her meaty labia. She works out without underwear like I do. I love the smooth curve of my ass under my spandex shorts. And there’s always the chance I’ll climb my way to an orgasm while on the Stairmaster. I said hello to her that morning as I always do, but couldn’t help stare at her crotch. It spoke to me.


I could feel my juices trickling out of me and down to my ass. I should’ve put a towel underneath. The louder she moaned, the wetter I became. I’ve tried on several occasions to come at the same time as she does. I can do it when I’m watching my favorite porno. The one where the coquettish “young” woman takes it up the ass like a pro. The actor’s money shot coincided with my climax. I could hear my neighbor nearing the finish line. Her animated purrs became intense, growls almost. I was nowhere close, but I kept the rhythmic massage going on my clit until there was silence coming from next door. The droning of didgeridoo entered the air. The stranger would be leaving soon, so I had to be ready. I threw on my cut-offs and a tank top. I tied up the garbage in my kitchen and waited by the door.

About two minutes passed when I heard her door open. I counted to five then opened my apartment door. He looked my way then back at the elevator. I held the garbage bag at arm’s length as I walked past him to the garbage chute.

“Gotta throw out this chicken skin.”

“So you’re the one cooking what smells so good,” he said, following me with his eyes. I smiled. In reflex I held my breath as I opened the chute and dumped the bag.

Elevator

“You just moved into the building?” I said, feigning ignorance that I prayed he’d see right through.

“No, I’m just here visiting a friend.”

“Oh,” I said, “I like visitors.” My eyes gleamed in response to his. “Did you have a nightcap already?’

“No, I haven’t actually.” He turned completely to me. I ran my eyes down the length of his body, studied his shoes, ogled his crotch, and then landed on his full lips.

The elevator dinged and the door opened. He followed me into my apartment. I was sure that my neighbor was watching us through her peephole.

Angelo was his name. He swirled his Jack on the rocks. The ice cubes clanged against the glass. I had examined his hands and fingers from a distance. They were well manicured and clean. I wondered if they still smelled like my neighbor. She was probably next door, not yet showered, with his deposit still leaking out of her.

“Will you visit me again?” I asked.

“If this visit is worth while.”

I sat in lotus position on the couch. My left lip peeked out from my cut-off shorts. He noticed it. My four-day shadow was apparent. Prickly to the touch. He sipped his drink and looked back down at my crotch.

“Should I have shaved?” I asked.

“No, its fine the way it is.”

“You don’t shave, do you?”

“I’m a man.”

Good answer. I wondered if the same thick hair that covered his head covered his body. I saw a few strands sticking out the top of his shirt. My neighbor had helped him get dressed. Made sure to leave the first three buttons open. Made my work easier. I leaned forward, and took a few of his hairs in my teeth and tugged. I could see his skin and follicles bulge up under my pull. He took in a deep breath through his teeth and he opened his legs for me. I put my elbow on the prominent bulge between his legs. I put a little more weight onto his crotch and he made that sound again.

“Mi piace molto,” he moaned. I adjusted my contact with his penis and grabbed it and his balls with my hand clawed. Like a vice, I took all of my fingers and squeezed. Lightly at first, then harder. If he didn’t slide his hips forward, I would’ve detached them from his body. Angelo stared at me wide-eyed and smiling. He opened his pants. His penis stood up like one of those inflatable dolls with sand at the bottom.

When I put his cock in my mouth I could smell and taste her. It was a sweet flavor, like she had a diet full of oranges and cherries. I sucked till her scent and flavor were gone.. I kept sucking till I could taste his pre-come. I wanted to taste all of him.

I took his balls into my mouth and juggled them with my tongue. Then I tasted his ass. He squirmed. I tugged on his cock like a cow’s teat. I took his drippings and my spit to lubricate my longest finger. I fucked him with my fuck-you finger. These animal sounds emanated from him. I knew when I moved from my spot, there would be a puddle.

My neighbor was mesmerized by what she heard. I was sure of it. She never knew Angelo could make sounds like that. She never knew that sounds alone could make her touch herself.

He slid off my finger and turned around to me. “Let me see you.”

I stood up for him. He didn’t say anything. I turned around for him. Still silence. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to my living-room floor.

“I want to see you.” He pushed me onto my back. His intention was clear. I had my hands around my ankles and my elbows on the back of my knees.

“Bella.” He feasted on me while he stroked his cock. When he entered me, his eyes were closed and the veins in his neck popped out from his exertion. My screams were answered by his. He muttered something in Italian and grabbed my hair low, by the scruff of my neck like I was a baby kitten. He held me there till I heard him come. I was filled with his warmth. When he pulled out he wiped the head of his cock clean and sucked his fingers.

“Would you eat milk and raw egg?” I asked. Egg_white_2

His face contorted in disgust.

I nodded, “Me neither.”

His arms and legs wrapped around me like an orangutan. I didn’t recall his limbs being so long.

The next morning we got ready for work. Without any words we relived the night before. “I’ll go get the elevator.” He let himself out my apartment.

I gathered the last of my things – my keys, chapstick, cell phone – and threw them in my bag. Then I took the same path he did out my apartment.

Angelo and my neighbor stood side by side at the elevator like two statues. They didn’t utter a word. When the elevator announced its arrival with a ding, she walked in first. He was second. I followed. She went to one side of the elevator and he stood on the opposite side. Neither of them pressed the button. So I stepped forward and pressed “one” and “door close.” I took my spot between them. We looked like the letter “M,” with me being the lowest part in the middle. I watched the lights come on, then go off in descending order. I swear I heard a collective sigh when we made it to the ground floor without anyone joining our party.

He exited the elevator first. We all exited the building. “I’ll talk to you later, love.” He gave me a kiss on the neck. I smiled.

“Have a good day.” He walked down the block with such a confident swagger; his shoulders and hips swaying just right. It reminded me why I loved to watch him so much. My neighbor took my hand and gave it a squeeze. We held hands till the last possible second as we headed in opposite directions. She winked at me.

“You taste delicious,” I told her.

Visit her at: http://www.myspace.com/iamwriter

Weekly Food Consumption around the World

This article about the weekly food consumption of families worldwide was forwarded to me. I don’t know where it came from so I can not account for its accuracy. It does not reveal whether the cost of food is actual cost or relative, and it does not seem as though the families are closely comparable socially or by size, however it is extremely interesting.

As a foodie I find it particularly disturbing that the only fresh green thing the American family had was a handful of grapes! In my opinion, the Egyptian family had the best (both healthy and delicious) diet, though I think the Polish family’s diet is the most similar to, though not exactly like my family’s.

What is eaten in one week around the world

Take a good look at the family size & diet of each country, and the availability & cost of what is eaten in one week. Interesting that at the lower levels of income the highly processed and high fat foods that contribute to obesity pretty much disappear.

Germany: The Melander family of Bargteheide
Food expenditure for one week: 375.39 Euros or $500.07

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Italy: The Manzo family of Sicily
Food expenditure for one week: 214.36 Euros or $260.11

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United States: The Revis family of North Carolina
Food expenditure for one week $341.98
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Mexico: The Casales family of Cuernavaca
Food expenditure for one week: 1,862.78 Mexican Pesos or $189.09

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Poland: The Sobczynscy family of Konstancin-Jeziorna
Food expenditure for one week: 582.48 Zlotys or $151.27

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Egypt: The Ahmed family of Cairo
Food expenditure for one week: 387.85 Egyptian Pounds or $68.53

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Ecuador: The Ayme family of Tingo
Food expenditure for one week: $31.55

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Bhutan: The Namgay family of Shingkhey Village
Food expenditure for one week: 224.93 ngultrum or $5.03

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Chad: The Aboubakar family of Breidjing Camp
Food expenditure for one week: 685 CFA Francs or $1.23

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Bad Fake Food

Oooh, I hate bad food.  I promised myself never to eat bad food because it is a waste of calories.  But I met some friends from out of town this weekend near the airport before their flight out.  I am not familiar with the airport suburbia and the fabulous restaurant we chose online was closed down.   The closest place was this awful chain joint that serves fake-ass Mexican food and we were hungry and didn’t have enough time for exploration. It sucked so bad that despite the great company my family came home hungry and cranky.  My ten year old daughter theorized that she had too much saturated fat, which was likely true because she could not bear to order anything faux Mexican so she had a corn dog and tater tots!  This is a child who eats fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil on ciabatta!  She has never been programmed to distinguish “kid food” from good food, thank goodness.