I was at a friend’s house tonight. It was her birthday. I’ve skipped a lot of parties in the last few years, but recently I’ve been to two house parties. On both nights, I fought the urge not to bother going. And on both nights, I sat obsessing about my size, comparing myself to everyone else in the room, thinking the thoughts fat people aren’t supposed to admit we have.
I thought that the other people must resent me for being so ugly and for taking up so much space. I felt in the way of everyone else. I felt like a giant slug. I worried about how I smelled. I worried about breaking furniture. I worried about being seen to eat. I worried about being seen not to eat. On social occasions, I find it very difficult not to constantly think about my weight and my size.
I left the party early. I couldn’t afford a taxi, so I was going home by bus.
I got the bus into town, but it got caught in a sea of taxis, so by the time I got off it in town, I’d missed my connecting bus home, which meant an hour’s walk. As I walked along George’s Street, a good-looking young man came up beside me. He was a little drunk, but not very. He put his hand on the small of my back and asked me, in an Australian accent, if I knew where the “Gourmet Pitta Cafe” was. I said I didn’t and he moved on.
The place where he had touched me on the small of my back felt electric. I’m so unused to attention from men that a fleeting touch from a drunk guy on the street left me reeling. I walked home feeling a warmth radiating from that spot on my back where he’d touched me.
An hour later and I can still feel it.
I need some male affection. It’s been almost 18 months since my last kiss. It’s been almost 6 years since I’ve actually slept with anyone.
My body is lonely.
But I’ve hung a sign on it saying “Men not welcome”. I’ve gained so much weight that my body is almost sexually dysfunctional. Most of the shaft of my penis is buried in a fat pad at the top of my groin. And my ass is the victim of nearly constant indigestion. And I’ve made this me.
For now, I’m sad. I’m sad that I’ve done this to myself. But I’m happy too, because it doesn’t matter how much I hate myself, because deep down I know my prince will come.
And at least, for tonight, I have the electricity in the small of my back.