“If she don’t have hips, she can get off my dick.”

This from a skinny little Goth boy who must weigh like FOUR POUNDS SOAKING WET.

Have I mentioned I adore my friends? Yeh. Don’t tell ‘em, though, it’ll go to their heads.

One of the things my husband said to me that made me fall for him was something along the lines of “I like sleeping next to you because it’s not like sharing a bed with a bag of hangers…”

*swooooooon*

I wear a size 20 pants and a size 14 shirt – pear shaped, yes? And ya know what? MOST of the time, I feel pretty fucking sexy. A 12 would be TINY to me…I never want to be LESS than a 12, I’ve decided…that just wouldn’t be “me.”

And no, wearing a size 12 doesn’t make you fat. Causality doesn’t work that way. Wearing a size 12 means you wear a size 12. Having your doctor throw the term ‘morbidly obese’ at you, well, that’s something to concern yourself with.

I have friends who are size 1 who are unhappy, who are size 12 and unhappy, an aunt who’s a 7 and freaking out about it. I was a 14 a year ago, an 8 now, and I really happily pretty much only notice when my jeans start slipping off… but I do get grumpy when they stop fitting again.
Sigh.

Curves are great. It’s other people’s intrusive attitudes about your body that suck (and make some go for the cannulas, ew nooooo).