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I Get Scared or How Doing One Thing Every Day That Scares Me Has Turned Me Into A Porn Star

Posted Sep 17 2012 3:00pm

Do one thing every day that scares you, right? Boy, do I wish I’d known what that was going to mean when I decided I would embrace that philosophy. I mean, you’d think a woman of my intellect would be suitably prepared for the challenges this would bring in all aspects of my life.

As you all know, I decided a long time ago that I do not date. Ever. I do not date because it scares me. I do not date because it makes me feel uncomfortable. I do not date because it make me feel insecure. I do not date because I cannot balance the space in my head allocated to boys with the space required to effectively manage any other aspects of my life. I do not date because it makes me crazy. I’m talking full-on-got-me-in-a-tailspin-obsessive-compulsive-bat-shit-crazy. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I just can’t do it.

So, what’s a fabulous fat chick to do? Oh, you know, try to act like nothing scares me and that I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve by taking on a purely physical relationship instead. I know, right? That’s totally the opposite of seeking out that healthy, loving, mutually-exclusive union  we talked about just last week . But it’s a whole lot less unnerving. Physical I can handle. It’s love that grinds my gears. I know, I do that. I tend to unexpectedly swing from one extreme to the next. On the plus side, there is something healthy about the aforementioned relationship I’ve decided to delve into. I’ve actually started to love myself a whole lot more.

About a week ago, I took a big risk and jumped in the sack with a very gorgeous goon  of a guy. He’s got guns for days and a killer smile. He’s got one of those everyday five o’clock shadows going on, works two jobs so he’s completely unavailable, works out daily, drives a Jeep and plays hockey (the puck bunny in me didn’t have a chance!). So, a recipe for fun, then.

On top of all of this, he’s a bit of a chubby chaser and a positively filthy (in a good way) one at that. As athletic as this man is, something in him is drawn to women of stature, such as myself. Without diving into too much detail (my inner circle has been inundated with too many of those as it is), this man was obsessed with seeing my shapely self in the buff. And not in the normal way where a drunken fumble in the dark is sufficient. We’re talking giving me orders to turn the lights on and tie my hair back so he could see all of me kinda shit. If he missed an inch, he missed a mile.

This came as a quite a pleasant surprise to me. This man is surrounded by hard-bodies and bar-stars each and every day and could charm the pants off a nun in a nanosecond. He didn’t have to have me (even if I was pretty easy pickin’s on this particular occasion). But there we were: Him all ripped and super fit, me all fluffy and full-figured and feeling nothing short of shock at his desire to take a good hard look at me. At first I’m all: “This body? Are we looking at the same thing?” But I fought the compulsion to question his craving for curves and leaned into the tryst with confidence.

We’ve since started exploring other avenues to satisfy his need for an eyeful by putting on a couple of Skype peep-shows for each other, cause, ya know, that’s how the kids are doing it these days. It is the understatement of my life to say that this is kind of a big deal. Up until recently I couldn’t even allow the man I had planned to marry to take snaps of me in the nude, let alone prance around naked in front of a live streaming camera for a man I’ve known for a week.

But with this latest philosophy comes the likelihood that some of those things will take me far beyond the edges of the comfort zone I’ve been hiding in for years. This new “filthy FWB” is frankly forcing me to act on that philosophy and so far, it’s worth it. I mean, wow. Sexy snaps, Skype peep shows – I’m a right little plus-size porn star aren’t I?!


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