We had a lot of fun. It was nice. Driving home from the event the next day, I noticed an odd pain in my pubic mound. The pain got worse and worse, though. Monday morning, it was quite significant. Still nothing.
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I'm not shy about my big body. The way I see it, if you can't handle my stretch marks, then you don't deserve my cellulite. I wasn't always like this. I used to be the girl who insisted on sex with the lights off. I covered myself every time I got out of bed. I never wanted to be on top during sex, fearing how my stomach might look from that angle. God, I feel so sad for that version of me. My confidence boosted the day I came to the simple realization that my fatness is not something I can hide , so why try? I never went into sex under the impression that my partners knew what they were in for, as if our entire time together before getting undressed was spent solely looking at each other's faces.
The Body Is Not an Apology
The king-size bed is inset into a floor-to-ceiling window. The room is lit from below and everything glows warm. Our Nikes are on the floor next to our clothes. All black. I hear the water running and watch as he washes me off his hands and rinses me from his mouth. We just gave the neighborhood below quite the show. Back then, I felt like I was wasting away in a sexless marriage.
Dan Weiss is 26, stands five-foot-six, weighs about pounds, and has a thin chinstrap beard outlining his jaw—without the scruff, he looks I first took an interest in him in September , when he reviewed a live show of the Coathangers, a scrappy all-female grrrl-wave four-piece from Atlanta. His Facebook profile filled in some of the blanks. He wore black-rimmed glasses and uniformly tight band T-shirts. He had shaggy black hair that fell in wiry squiggles. He played guitar and studied English at William Paterson University.