![]() And more than that, it feels safe somehow. It feels scary, but good - really, really good. Derek responds to my ad in which I say I’m a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) seeking someone who is “into that.”Ĭalling myself a BBW is new to me. Derek is my neighbor, though we met online. I am just starting to consider that after years of disordered eating, maybe my body is okay the way it is and I don’t need to spend every moment of my life trying to become smaller. I also currently have a body-positive partner who unapologetically adores me with a passion and humility that warms my heart every single day.īut in this story it’s around 2006, and I’m a new and wide-eyed transplant to San Francisco. ![]() Nowadays, I’m a proud fat woman who teaches people how to love their bodies, writes books about it and has a podcast where I share with thousands of people the sounds of myself eating delicious things. His voice was deep and his pants rode low, sitting on his hips (hips I would soon know well, in the biblical sense).īefore we get any further into Derek’s pants, let me back up and give you some context. I want you to imagine Derek* (name changed to protect the guilty): tall with jet black hair and just a touch of shy swagger.
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