Seriously Proud Queer

For a long time I was uncomfortable with the term ‘queer’ – at least when it came to applying it to myself. Despite knowing that many people regard it as an umbrella term for those of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, it didn’t feel like it was a label that was right for me.

I’m quite particular about my labels. I really like to have them, with the proviso that I have chosen them myself – and I write them on removable stickers, in pencil! So sure, I’ve plastered myself with pansexual and polyamorous – either of which is enough for various friends to tell me that the label suited me. But I needed to work it through for myself, to see if it was a term I could come to terms with, reconcile to my sense of identity.

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Bathroom lovers

It’s been wonderful getting to spend more time with Demeter again. We’ve been friends for the best part of a decade, lovers sporadically, and always very comfortable spending time together.  She moved away for a while, but having her back in Auckland means getting to catch up more – going to movies, having lunch together, and even hefting furniture around the city (my muscles now ache from yesterday’s assist).

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Exhibit

 

I love myself. And I love my inviting, curvaceous, fat body – it’s beautiful!

I also love being naked, both indoors and out. There’s something truly delicious about feeling the breeze on my skin, the grass under my feet, the water buoying me up. And the gaze of others on me as they see me enjoying myself …

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Paint on the beach

The sun beats hot and sultry upon my purple skin. As I caper delightedly across the sand, sharing the joy of loving your body – and loving mine as well – I revel at being out in public wearing naught but paint and accessories.

What do they see? A goddess? Rolls of fat that disgust them? An amazing parasol shading a vision? A body that’s not normally expressed? Positive or negative or something in-between?

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Fuck Yeah, April Flores!

April is awesome – and I’ve had a mega-crush on her for a very long time now. Since I started my tumblr over a year ago, April has featured heavily. But I decided recently it was time for more. More focus, more April. Fuck yeah!

So a few weeks back I started a new tumblr focused specifically on the luscious April Flores, aka Fatty D. And it turns out I’m not the only fan out there. Posting twice a day, it’s already garnered a few hundred followers.

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Fat Dee is Fat

Trollish backstory

Last week this blog saw its first ever troll (I have no idea what took them so long, really!). The reaction from readers was swift, hilarious, and awesome.

Here’s how it started – ‘Jesus’ commented with the following:

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Musings on Curvitude

Today is 11 years since my mother’s suicide. I don’t feel up to saying anything new, but I did want to repost something I wrote a few years back.

I miss my mother’s body.

In our household skin was normal, and it wasn’t the slightest bit unusual to pee with the toilet door open, or to amble naked from bedroom to bathroom – not to mention from bedroom to the kitchen for a drink and back again! As a child, waking up in the morning the first thing I’d do would be to throw myself into bed with mum and dad, and they’d both be naked. (Sleeping without clothes always seemed perfectly sensible to me, and was something I took up myself after I turned fourteen. Pyjamas and nighties always felt right when I was younger, however. But never knickers… knickers were for daytime only!)

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Fat and Sexy

 

See those curves? Those are mine. I love them.

I love my breasts, which are large and heavy. Sometimes they become more gravid than usual, drooping down toward my torso – usually as my sex drive rises.

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I Forgot

I forgot so many things.

I forgot that to most people the word ‘cunt‘ is an insult, derogatory, and shocking. That they don’t hear it as a marvellous beautiful descriptor of female genitalia, or realise that I speak the word with love and reverence and respect.

I forgot that to most people ’sex’ is between a male and a female, and described solely as the penetration of the penis into the vagina. That they have no idea sex can be amazing without penetration being part of the picture, or that indeed masturbation is solo sex and in no way secondary to that with a partner.

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Once upon a time

It starts like all stories do: Once upon a time. And ends like all stories should: with a happy ending.

Once upon a time there was a young woman who started to gain weight. For the next decade, despite her efforts, her curves grew curvier and her flesh became fleshier. She would look, in despair, at pictures of herself at seventeen and at – she thought – her ‘ideal’ weight, and wondered what she was doing wrong, that she could not stay slim.

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