Marie Claire and @MauraKellyBlog Reaction, And A New Resolution

Tomorrow, I'll be reposting Lady Isis's wonderful blog entry "To Losers," with her permission. Today, however, before I could get that post up something happened. It's something that made me reverse a decision I made. Gentle Reader, today I Saw Red, and I'm going to do something about it.

In the past, I've told people I'm a BBW. Most people know this going in when they first meet me. The ones who care rapidly fall away. The ones who don't get to know me better... some very, very well. But when I made the decision to go pro Domme, I was worried that my looks would get in the way of my career. After all, the stereotype is of the slender, tall, on-high-heels Dominatrix built up in the media. I kept telling myself it was a career decision. After all, it's the romance of the thing, right? Surely that's what matters? And I was experiencing a lot of anxiety on that level with the Sex Robot video. I worried about that negatively impacting sales, instead of positively impacting them.

In retrospect, that's when things really started to go downhill with my health, and I think I know why. You see, I am a hypnotist, and what I tell my unconscious mind, it starts to live.

For years, I had been deeply in love with my body. It does such amazing things. Still, like many fat women in this society, I'd internalized the shame that comes along with it. As long as I was active, moving, happy, dancing, having great - no, fantastic - sex, doing yoga, my body loved me back. Knee injuries hampered some things, but overall everything was wonderful. Great cholesterol, blood pressure my skinny sisters would kill for, healthy skin and hair... I had it all. Until I told it that it wasn't good enough for my job.

Suddenly, things started to happen. My blood pressure went up by ten points. My desire for healthy foods tanked. My knees hurt more. You see, when I told my body "people won't like you," it listened. I was telling myself that the shame I'd fought against for years was valid.

I was starting to come to this conclusion already, over the time I'd spent away from home the last month. I think I looked fantastic in the Sex Robot video. I find fat chicks attractive, myself, and one of my first reactions was "Damn, I would totally fuck me!"

Then, today, came the final epiphany. Marie Claire Magazine posted a blog entry from someone talking about "Mike and Molly," the sitcom with two fat characters in love. To be honest, I'd never watched the show. I'm not much for sitcoms... give me Discovery Channel any day... so my reaction was fair-to-negative. "Oh, yay, more making fun of fat people. Just what I need in my life, fat jokes. I'll pass."


But oh, this review was nasty. Warning: fat-phobic trigger language in there, read at your own risk.

Even that half-assed apology doesn't cut it. You see, no one, but no one, gets to tell me that I don't deserve to have so much as physical affection because of a hundred pounds of adipose tissue. No one who finds it "aesthetically displeasing" to watch a fat person *cross the room* gets to tell me that I should exercise more. And yes, I think she is acting like an insensitive jerk.

I have a lot of compassion for the writer's eating disorder history. When I was a teenager, I roomed with a girl with anorexia. She was 5'6" and weighed sixty-five pounds when they finally got her into treatment. I saw the agony my roommate experienced. Given that, I can't and won't say or imply that this writer is a bad person. But I also refuse to give her the power to tell me how my body should look.

And the fact is that I am a fucking Goddess. In the old-school fashion, those ancient Venuses and Maltese temple deities. I love the way my hips sway when they walk. I love my curves and my skin and my hair. I love my sensuality, the way my hair tickles the small of my back, the way carpet feels under my bare feet. I love the soft flowing dresses I wear in Dommespace and the way they puddle to the floor at my ankles as I shed them. I love the way finger and toenail polish flashes as I move.



I love my ass. (Jukebox loves to go up the stairs behind me, especially when I'm naked.) I love Public Displays of Affection, everything from holding hands to deepkisses to stolen gropes. I love my tattoos.



I have not been single since I was seventeen. I have not had fewer than two romantic partners since 1993, except for a brief span in 2003-2004, and even then I had other sexual partners. Fuck yes, I'm sexy. Fuck yes, this fat body can do amazing things!

I love my body's power. I love the focus and care I have for my trance partners, and how deep they go as I ensnare their minds. Make no mistake: I am a hypnoDomme, and I love to wield that mystique and that power and that sexuality. I love making my partners change, gasp, moan, come so hard they can't even speak for an hour. I love gently and thoroughly brainwashing people. I love my voice. I love running my hands over my partners' bodies and feeling them shudder with heat. I love the way my huge, non-perky breasts ache and my thighs get slick when I'm hypnotically Dominating someone.



And, oh yeah, I'm fat. And I'm sexual. And I'm sexy as hell. And I love being both. And from now on, there will be pictures on my site... because I love my body, and it's not getting shortchanged any more.
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(And, oh yeah, that blood pressure? Back down to 110/70, thank yew very much. And the veggies at dinner tasted delicious.)