Thursday, November 11, 2010

A Broken Skinny dream.

So today my darlings I'm going to tell you a story. It's a cautionary tale full of lust, intrigue and an object lesson about the fact that thin isn't always awesome.

Imagine yours truly quite a bit younger and at the time fairly thin for me. This thinness was a result of a combination of working as much as I could, poverty, misery and a dogged determination to maintain that "healthy" weight. To be honest, I am fairly glad there are not that many surviving photos of me during that time because I was funny looking.

I felt funny looking and proportioned weirdly in a very unattractive way but I faked it. I thought that because I was thin I should like my body but I just didn't. So I pretended a lot. I wore clothes, I put a lot of effort into looking the part. I succeeded in some ways and in others failed miserably.

At the time I wasn't into dating so much as getting laid as much as I possibly could. It wasn't as often as I wanted because of work and whatnot but I tried really hard.

Now I met a trans woman whom we'll call Legs. She was instantly one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen up close, funny, smart, well read, all the things that make me go wet in the crotch and weak at the knees.

Pretty much from the instant we met I wanted her. I wanted her so bad I would have really done anything. If she'd told me to set my tits on fire I would have. Luckily for me she was not that flavor of sadist so there were no games.

I have never been good at asking people on dates. After we'd known each other for awhile I still hadn't figured out the whole asking for a date thing, I was saved though by a friend who suggest we do a double date with her and her boyfriend.

The date was fantastic. I was trying out being a dapper little soft butch type. I remember being so nervous and twitchy, just being close to her during our date turned me into a throbbing being of want.

Dinner proved to start to be my undoing. Unfortunately I got very self righteous about my staunch refusal of any foods I thought were bad. Nothing creamy, nothing with too much salt fat or sugar, no booze, no soda, no dressing. Nothing good. We went to a fantastic restaurant and there was so much deliciousness to be had but I stood my ground.

Later when Legs and I were alone at her place again I went on the defensive. I had been so fat before and of course I looked better and was better in the context of morality and the person I had been before.

I talked a good game.

Legs saw through my bullshit and called me on it. I have to admit, her seeing right through me turned me on. We did some serious making out.

Things were going fairly well. Legs was fucking glorious naked. My complete physical opposite. Long, tall, muscular, gorgeous. I will say that I was most excited about her oddly red gold pubes I thought they were so beautiful.

She got naked. I did not.

I got stuck in my head. I had not long before that upped my abdomnial exercises but I still had a soft belly. The fact is, I hated my body.

I hated it enough that my discomfort made her uncomfortable. I was hesitant about letting her touch me and that really made any lovemaking impossible.

She got frustrated, I was awfully embarrassed. She put her panties back on and we sat talking.

I don't recall exactly what she said but I do remember her saying this, (matter of fact I can still hear her voice in my head)

"You know, if you're that weird about your body it makes me really not want to fuck you. I feel bad for you."

At the time I got really pissed off. I probably called her a fucking bitch. I remember I left in a butthurt huff.

I didn't see Legs again for about three years. The next time we saw each other she had the most gorgeous man on her arm and we met again at a party.

I had regained weight and more importantly I had regained my real self confidence. I wasn't acting sexy I felt sexy.

I remember we found ouselves in a corner, she had her hands on my once again fat ass and she squeezed it and told me that I looked so beautiful.

It was a moment for me.

It was one of those moments when everything turned right side up and I got it.

I understood in that moment with her hands on my ass and our bodies pressed close together in a corner at a party like a couple of horny teenages that I didn't have to force my body into an unnatural for me mold to be desirable.

I understood that what had made the biggest difference was not the size of my ass but my attitude.

When I felt better about myself at a core level, it came out of my pours. It changed my walk, it changed how I fucked, it changed everything in the best way possible.

Legs and I parted on good terms. Her boyfriend was kind enough to allow us to have our little girly moment of making out in the bathroom. I haven't seen Legs in a really long time. If I did see Legs (or if by some insane cosmic coincidence) she sees this, Legs thanks for calling me on my shit.

Also Legs, you are one of the hottest human beings to ever escape my clutches.

This incident became a big part of the foundation of my understanding of my own self esteem and how I function.

Now excuse me my homies. I'm going to do some stuff and eat some delicious food and maybe daydream a little about Leg's big gorgeous hard muscled thighs and long hard tattooed back.

Homo Out.
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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

that's really fucked up

Anonymous said...

This is a gorgeous story. I don't usually comment even though I love your posts, but I had never thought of what was wrong with my attitude in terms of how Legs worded it to you.

Until right now, it never occurred to me that when I was younger, the reason I didn't have sex with the people I actually liked was that I was uncomfortable with my body (or, well, hated it). I could have sex with people I didn't care about, but not people I did. If only the ones I liked, who I never actually succeeded in having sex with, had been as forthcoming as Legs about how my obvious uncomfortableness and unwillingness to get undressed made them feel. Maybe it would've woken me up. I thought I was doing this because I hated MYSELF, but I didn't realize actually, it was my body, not my whole self that I hate(d).

Rock on, Shannon.

-C.

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