BDSM & Alternative Lifestyle Personals
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Genetics can be a bugger
3/28/2006 11:33 pm Last Read: |
I put on my usual pair of trousers today and realised - with a bit of a shock - they were loose around the waist. No issue with needing to find a belt, as I have wide Ashanti hips (I will NEVER be anything less than a size 12, and thank the deities for that! - bone structure forbids it). Said hips and my Norwegian shoulders are the sole reasons why I never seem to notice when I lose a lot of weight - I'm built like a warrior queen, and I always have to buy clothes too large just to get my bones into them. In England, where women have as much curve as an eel on end, and barely go over 5'6", I'm huge. I don't go to the cinema because the seats are too small - I have to fold myself up like a pretzel and my knees are always pressed bruisingly tight against the seats ahead of me. Of course, they're not wide enough either - yes I've got bootie, but I've always HAD booty, it's not going any where. As I said, these hipbones take no prisoners. It's the same problem going to a cafe or something else with seats with arms on them - they're downright painful to sit in. I bruise to the bone on my hips because my hips aren't covered in a huge layer of fat, like people seem to want to assume. They really are WAAAY out there, thankyouverymuch. Finding shirts is my size necessitates I buy shirts about three sizes too large unless I want to split the seams right down the back, and don't even get me started on not being able to button them over my definitely-bigger-than-a-size-B-cup breasts. Trousers don't fit - I hate the low-rider-show-us-your-chub trousers, again designed for people without hips or bootie. Even a regular pair of trousers is too short and tend to rise several inches higher at the hem than I'd like. Bras? Don't even get me started on those.... So, essentially, I've got the build of a Boris Valejo painting whilst living among the Lilliputs. Being surrounded by people with stick straight hair and willowy frames, I've been feeling like a stumping, bumbling giant ever since I moved here four years ago. I eye their upper arms which I could probably put one hand around easily, their skinny little legs, no muscles showing anywhere, and somehow that's been sticking in my head. I've just been losing weight, and ignoring the muscle tone. For a while I thought it wasn't a big deal. But the thing is, I used to body build. I dug ditches with my father by hand when I was 10. I could pick up a grown man at 13 and carry him over my shoulder. People called it "fat" because anything that isn't dainty must be "fat" on a woman. It wasn't - of course I didn't realise that until much later, but it wasn't. It was muscle and bone structure, plain and simple. When I went into the gym for a membership in Seattle, they gave me that sneering once-over, automatically assuming my size was flab. I was used to that look as I've had it all my life. Then they did the fat-measurement test; the woman couldn't believe it. She said "You have less body fat than our trainers." She actually did the test twice because the fact I could be as big as I was and NOT be obese just didn't fit into her little fitness-club world. I got the membership anyway, as I've always loved working out, but after that test, it clicked. I wasn't fat. I was just built like an Amazon. I'd ALWAYS been built like an Amazon. But for years, I bought into the "fat" mentality. All that time, I believed it - and it wasn't even true. Off that tangent, my point is I'm never going to be willowy. Ever. Anyone who gives me the "You should lose weight line" can kiss my bootie, because they've no clue. This is my build. I can't change it. I won't change it. Size 14, maybe size 12, is as low as I'll ever go, because the bottom line is I'm used to seeing muscle structure on my body. I LIKE being buffed out. Not huge definition like a pro builder; I admire the form and dedication, but I've never really wanted to be "ripped". But to me, I've lived so long with at least some form of muscle in my biceps and trapes, with at least a bit of muscle structure in my calves and thighs, that just feeling NOTHING there is downright strange to me. That I can't open a jar of honey without asking the husband is just not on. I used to be stronger than this! I know I'm no slouch still, I'm probably stronger than the average woman but...well I guess we better face some facts. I don't like being this girly. I don't like feeling like I'm this weak. I don't like the idea I couldn't win an armwrestling match with a man. I don't like the idea of having reedy arms, of losing muscle tone. I don't like the modern idea of "feminine". I know there are loads of men who disagree, but they don't have to live inside my skin, so I don't care. I don't shave "down there" because I don't like it. I don't wear typical fetish clothing because I don't like it. And I don't want to be weedy because I don't like it. The end. I want my warrior-body back. I'll get the "You're probably a man anyway!" thing flung at me, like always. Some things don't change - men don't like to hear the word "no". But unlike other women who say "no" to a man, I don't have to worry about a man coming after me physically at my size. I intimidate the hell out of men. That too can be a bit of a pain. And there's always the really SHORT fellows who seem to think they've got something to prove and won't leave me alone, humping on my leg like a chihuahua. That's fine, they can have that issue if they want. But it's something I will just deal with. I've found Tall Girl clothing, which is cool. I'm doing my at home upper-body sets, and I'll keep doing the Callanetics for the rest. I'll make do. I'll sort it. So thanks to my ancestors. You created the Amazon with your 64ths of ancestry boiled down and distilled into my structure. Now if you could bless a sistah with some money for a wardrobe that fits...? |
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