My first love went to art school, and early in our courtship he invited
me to a student show of his photography. Haunting photographs hung on
the walls, a ghostly kind of self-portrait of his changing body. He had
started testosterone shortly before we met, and the double-exposed
photos seemed to show his body as a specter as the hormones took root.

We lived two states away from each other and on the weekends would meet
in the middle in Boston, spending long days together. He wrote me
letters nearly every day, and I responded like clockwork. His love
letters landed like a blow, knocking the wind out of me. I wrote back on
thick paper, sometimes sprayed with perfume. He put the letters up
around his bedroom mirror. You say such nice things about me. I figure
if I keep looking at them, I’ll start to believe it.

Over time our Boston rendezvous turned into weekends at his apartment.
We would lie together in his tiny bed and daydream of my postgraduation
move to Boston. I started researching jobs, and he started looking for
apartments.

But every time I imagined our future, I couldn’t imagine myself. This
beautiful life belonged to someone else, and he deserved someone better.
Someone easier, prettier, cooler, and, of course, someone thinner.

I have always been fat.

Not chubby or fluffy or husky or curvy — fat. As I write this, I weigh
342 pounds and wear a women’s size 26. My body mass index (BMI)
describes my body as “super morbidly obese” or “extremely obese.”
Although my body is not the fattest in existence, it is the fattest the
BMI can fathom. Three years ago, I weighed just over 400 pounds and wore
a size 30 or 32, depending on the cut of the clothing. At my high school
graduation, I wore a red wrap top in the highest size I could find at
the time—a women’s 24.

For me, the size of my body is a simple fact. I do not struggle with
self-esteem or negative body image. I do not lie awake at night, longing
for a thinner body or some life that lies 100 pounds out of reach. For
me, my body isn’t good or bad; it just is.

But I had never seen a fat woman in love — not in life, not in the
media. I had never seen fat women who dated. I had never seen fat women
who asserted themselves, whose partners respected them. Because this was
uncharted territory, I assumed it was also unexplored. My risk-taking
resolution ebbed from my broad, soft body. How could he love me if it
meant loving this?

Despite having what was described as a “very pretty face,” I was
constantly reminded that my body was impossible to want. We were dating
at the height of popularity of sites like Hot or Not and TV shows like
The Swan. Everywhere I looked, bodies were openly critiqued and ranked,
and mine steadily landed near the bottom of the scale — 2, 3, 4. His
thinness alone earned him a much higher standing. In the cruel calculus
of dating and relationships, our numbers didn’t match.

But it wasn’t just him. I had learned that I was undesirable to almost
everyone. For years, my body took center stage in my dating life. Dates
constantly commented on my size, a knee-jerk reaction to their
discomfort with their own desire. Over time, I came to experience any
attraction as untrustworthy, as if danger lurked nearby. In retrospect,
I worried for my bodily safety, as if only violence could develop an
appetite for a body as soft as mine. And I worried that I would become a
sexual curio, more novel than loved.

Desire for a body like mine meant my partners were irrational, stupid,
or resigned to settling for less than they wanted. In the years since my
first breakup, I had struggled to accept interest where I found it. No
matter how a potential partner looked, no matter how enthusiastic they
were, I couldn’t trust their attraction. I shrank from their touch,
recoiling from their hands like hot iron, believing their interest to be
impossible or pathological. Any intimacy required vulnerability, and
vulnerability inevitably led back to humiliation.

This is among the greatest triumphs of anti-fatness: It stops us before
we start. Its greatest victory isn’t diet industry sales or lives
postponed just until I lose a few more pounds. It’s the belief that our
bodies make us so worthless that we aren’t deserving of love, or even touch.

As these little fissures opened into wounds, I dressed them by retelling
the story of our relationship. It had always been impossible, too
beautiful and tender to be true. Maybe he had taken pity on me, doing a
charitable deed by showing affection to a pitiable fat girl. I told
myself he didn’t want to be with me. I told myself he was too gentle to
do what he knew needed to be done and dump me. I told myself the best
thing I could do for him was leave. So I did.

I didn’t know how to be loved. I couldn’t see it happening. So I broke
both of our hearts.

Later in my 20s, after briefly dating a friend of a friend, I decided to
return to dating apps. I was on Bumble for less than a day when I
matched with someone. I sent him a message — just a waving-hand emoji,
to see how he’d respond. This was the informal first step of my
screening process. He didn’t make it to the second.

I said hello. He said: I love my women fat. Big girl usually means a big
mouth too. Even a nice handjob is better when there’s a chubby hand
doing the work lol. Usually bigger girls are better at pleasing their
men though.

Welcome to dating apps.

Like any woman, I’d come to expect explicit photos, unwanted advances,
and, when I dared decline, epithets. But I also faced messages like
these, tinged with entitlement to my fat body — a body that they
expected was theirs for the taking simply because of the size of it. In
their eyes, I wasn’t a new land to conquer. No, I would go willingly,
grateful for their conquest.

But more than that, this message mirrored so many experiences I’d had
before. It echoed fraternity brothers’ “hogging” competitions to bed fat
women, their “pig roasts” to see who could sleep with the fattest woman,
the endless barrage of fat jokes on TV. It echoed the man in a bar who
asked me for my number, face kind and expectant, before retreating to
his friends to report back on their dare: He’d gotten the fattest girl’s
number. It echoed the formerly fat date who’d complimented me on my
confidence, told me he “used to be like that, until I realized I wanted
anyone to fuck me ever,” then asked me back to his place. It echoed the
concerns from family and friends, dangling the promise of a loving,
healthy relationship at a lower weight: I just want you to find someone.

Then, on top of all that, messages like these. Messages that received my
body like tissue: plentiful, accessible, disposable, trash. Fat people
aren’t the only ones who live with the repercussions of anti-fatness in
our relationships. Those messages also land hard with people who date
us, love us, marry us, sleep with us. They get trapped, too. After all,
in our cultural scripts, a fat partner is a failure at best, a shameful,
pathological fetish at worst. Desiring fat people is something deviant
to be hidden, to find shame in, to closet.

An illustration of a smartphone with messages from a dating app.
Deja Doodles
But the data and research around sexuality paint a wholly different
picture. In A Billion Wicked Thoughts, computational neuroscientists Ogi
Ogas and Sai Gaddam analyzed history’s largest data bank on pornography
viewers. They found that regardless of gender and sexual orientation,
porn searches for fat bodies significantly outpaced searches for thin
bodies. In fact, fat porn was the 16th most popular category, outranking
categories like “anal sex” (18), “group sex” (24), “fellatio” (28), and
“skinny” (30).

“For every search for a ‘skinny’ girl,” they wrote, “there are almost
three searches for a ‘fat’ girl.”

Despite being surrounded by women of all sizes, viewers opted instead to
drive their desire into safe, siloed, and one-sided experiences, away
from the prying eyes of the world around them.

While Ogas and Gaddam’s research speaks only to sexual desire (not
romantic attraction or aspirations), it certainly indicates that our
cultural scripts around size and desire — that is, that thin people are
inherently desirable and fat people are categorically undesirable — are
rooted more in perception than in research. The findings in A Billion
Wicked Thoughts point to the idea that fat bodies may be among the most
widely desired, but that desire may be repressed, possibly due to
pervasive stigma.

Many men who are attracted to fat women find ways to express that desire
while sheltering themselves from judgment and stigma including secret
sexual relationships with fat women, too afraid or disgusted to elevate
those encounters to full-fledged relationships. In “Secret Relationships
With Fat Women,” Virgie Tovar recounted the patterns of one such
relationship of her own. “Everything was intimate and magical when we
were alone, and then all of a sudden it would stop being that. I would
go from being a charmingly eccentric bohemian to being a monstrously
crass bother.”

On Monday, July 5, 2021 at 12:18:24 AM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
> My first love went to art school, and early in our courtship he invited
> me to a student show of his photography. Haunting photographs hung on
> the walls, a ghostly kind of self-portrait of his changing body. He had
> started testosterone shortly before we met, and the double-exposed
> photos seemed to show his body as a specter as the hormones took root.
>
> We lived two states away from each other and on the weekends would meet
> in the middle in Boston, spending long days together. He wrote me
> letters nearly every day, and I responded like clockwork. His love
> letters landed like a blow, knocking the wind out of me. I wrote back on
> thick paper, sometimes sprayed with perfume. He put the letters up
> around his bedroom mirror. You say such nice things about me. I figure
> if I keep looking at them, I’ll start to believe it.
>
> Over time our Boston rendezvous turned into weekends at his apartment.
> We would lie together in his tiny bed and daydream of my postgraduation
> move to Boston. I started researching jobs, and he started looking for
> apartments.
>
> But every time I imagined our future, I couldn’t imagine myself. This
> beautiful life belonged to someone else, and he deserved someone better.
> Someone easier, prettier, cooler, and, of course, someone thinner.
>
> I have always been fat.
>
> Not chubby or fluffy or husky or curvy — fat. As I write this, I weigh
> 342 pounds and wear a women’s size 26. My body mass index (BMI)
> describes my body as “super morbidly obese” or “extremely obese.”
> Although my body is not the fattest in existence, it is the fattest the
> BMI can fathom. Three years ago, I weighed just over 400 pounds and wore
> a size 30 or 32, depending on the cut of the clothing. At my high school
> graduation, I wore a red wrap top in the highest size I could find at
> the time—a women’s 24.
>
> For me, the size of my body is a simple fact. I do not struggle with
> self-esteem or negative body image. I do not lie awake at night, longing
> for a thinner body or some life that lies 100 pounds out of reach. For
> me, my body isn’t good or bad; it just is.
>
> But I had never seen a fat woman in love — not in life, not in the
> media. I had never seen fat women who dated. I had never seen fat women
> who asserted themselves, whose partners respected them. Because this was
> uncharted territory, I assumed it was also unexplored. My risk-taking
> resolution ebbed from my broad, soft body. How could he love me if it
> meant loving this?
>
> Despite having what was described as a “very pretty face,” I was
> constantly reminded that my body was impossible to want. We were dating
> at the height of popularity of sites like Hot or Not and TV shows like
> The Swan. Everywhere I looked, bodies were openly critiqued and ranked,
> and mine steadily landed near the bottom of the scale — 2, 3, 4. His
> thinness alone earned him a much higher standing. In the cruel calculus
> of dating and relationships, our numbers didn’t match.
>
> But it wasn’t just him. I had learned that I was undesirable to almost
> everyone. For years, my body took center stage in my dating life. Dates
> constantly commented on my size, a knee-jerk reaction to their
> discomfort with their own desire. Over time, I came to experience any
> attraction as untrustworthy, as if danger lurked nearby. In retrospect,
> I worried for my bodily safety, as if only violence could develop an
> appetite for a body as soft as mine. And I worried that I would become a
> sexual curio, more novel than loved.
>
> Desire for a body like mine meant my partners were irrational, stupid,
> or resigned to settling for less than they wanted. In the years since my
> first breakup, I had struggled to accept interest where I found it. No
> matter how a potential partner looked, no matter how enthusiastic they
> were, I couldn’t trust their attraction. I shrank from their touch,
> recoiling from their hands like hot iron, believing their interest to be
> impossible or pathological. Any intimacy required vulnerability, and
> vulnerability inevitably led back to humiliation.
>
> This is among the greatest triumphs of anti-fatness: It stops us before
> we start. Its greatest victory isn’t diet industry sales or lives
> postponed just until I lose a few more pounds. It’s the belief that our
> bodies make us so worthless that we aren’t deserving of love, or even touch.
>
> As these little fissures opened into wounds, I dressed them by retelling
> the story of our relationship. It had always been impossible, too
> beautiful and tender to be true. Maybe he had taken pity on me, doing a
> charitable deed by showing affection to a pitiable fat girl. I told
> myself he didn’t want to be with me. I told myself he was too gentle to
> do what he knew needed to be done and dump me. I told myself the best
> thing I could do for him was leave. So I did.
>
> I didn’t know how to be loved. I couldn’t see it happening. So I broke
> both of our hearts.
>
> Later in my 20s, after briefly dating a friend of a friend, I decided to
> return to dating apps. I was on Bumble for less than a day when I
> matched with someone. I sent him a message — just a waving-hand emoji,
> to see how he’d respond. This was the informal first step of my
> screening process. He didn’t make it to the second.
>
> I said hello. He said: I love my women fat. Big girl usually means a big
> mouth too. Even a nice handjob is better when there’s a chubby hand
> doing the work lol. Usually bigger girls are better at pleasing their
> men though.
>
> Welcome to dating apps.
>
> Like any woman, I’d come to expect explicit photos, unwanted advances,
> and, when I dared decline, epithets. But I also faced messages like
> these, tinged with entitlement to my fat body — a body that they
> expected was theirs for the taking simply because of the size of it. In
> their eyes, I wasn’t a new land to conquer. No, I would go willingly,
> grateful for their conquest.
>
> But more than that, this message mirrored so many experiences I’d had
> before. It echoed fraternity brothers’ “hogging” competitions to bed fat
> women, their “pig roasts” to see who could sleep with the fattest woman,
> the endless barrage of fat jokes on TV. It echoed the man in a bar who
> asked me for my number, face kind and expectant, before retreating to
> his friends to report back on their dare: He’d gotten the fattest girl’s
> number. It echoed the formerly fat date who’d complimented me on my
> confidence, told me he “used to be like that, until I realized I wanted
> anyone to fuck me ever,” then asked me back to his place. It echoed the
> concerns from family and friends, dangling the promise of a loving,
> healthy relationship at a lower weight: I just want you to find someone.
>
> Then, on top of all that, messages like these. Messages that received my
> body like tissue: plentiful, accessible, disposable, trash. Fat people
> aren’t the only ones who live with the repercussions of anti-fatness in
> our relationships. Those messages also land hard with people who date
> us, love us, marry us, sleep with us. They get trapped, too. After all,
> in our cultural scripts, a fat partner is a failure at best, a shameful,
> pathological fetish at worst. Desiring fat people is something deviant
> to be hidden, to find shame in, to closet.
>
> An illustration of a smartphone with messages from a dating app.
> Deja Doodles
> But the data and research around sexuality paint a wholly different
> picture. In A Billion Wicked Thoughts, computational neuroscientists Ogi
> Ogas and Sai Gaddam analyzed history’s largest data bank on pornography
> viewers. They found that regardless of gender and sexual orientation,
> porn searches for fat bodies significantly outpaced searches for thin
> bodies. In fact, fat porn was the 16th most popular category, outranking
> categories like “anal sex” (18), “group sex” (24), “fellatio” (28), and
> “skinny” (30).
>
> “For every search for a ‘skinny’ girl,” they wrote, “there are almost
> three searches for a ‘fat’ girl.”
>
> Despite being surrounded by women of all sizes, viewers opted instead to
> drive their desire into safe, siloed, and one-sided experiences, away
> from the prying eyes of the world around them.
>
> While Ogas and Gaddam’s research speaks only to sexual desire (not
> romantic attraction or aspirations), it certainly indicates that our
> cultural scripts around size and desire — that is, that thin people are
> inherently desirable and fat people are categorically undesirable — are
> rooted more in perception than in research. The findings in A Billion
> Wicked Thoughts point to the idea that fat bodies may be among the most
> widely desired, but that desire may be repressed, possibly due to
> pervasive stigma.
>
> Many men who are attracted to fat women find ways to express that desire
> while sheltering themselves from judgment and stigma including secret
> sexual relationships with fat women, too afraid or disgusted to elevate
> those encounters to full-fledged relationships. In “Secret Relationships
> With Fat Women,” Virgie Tovar recounted the patterns of one such
> relationship of her own. “Everything was intimate and magical when we
> were alone, and then all of a sudden it would stop being that. I would
> go from being a charmingly eccentric bohemian to being a monstrously
> crass bother.”
>
> When attraction to fat people is discussed, fetishism is never far
> behind. Fetishism isn’t in itself necessarily pathological; fetishes can
> be as simple as consensual kinks, particularly intense attractions, or
> simple preferences. But when fetishism is brought up with respect to fat
> attraction, it gathers like a storm cloud.
>
> To be clear, there are attractions to fatness that take such specific
> forms that they are undeniably fetishistic. Feeders, for example, long
> to feed their “feedees,” deriving pleasure from watching their fat
> partner eat and, in some cases, from watching them gain more and more
> weight. Squash fetishes, on the other hand, indicate a desire to be sat
> on or pinned beneath their partner’s body.
>
> Some fat people happily engage with these fetishes and find fulfillment
> (or paid work) in their role. Some do not. But many fat people have felt
> fetishism thrust upon them without their consent.
>
> Fat fetishism has deep roots for many fat people, especially fat women.
> For some, size, desire, shame, and sex are a rat’s nest, hopelessly
> entangled. People who internalize anti-fat stereotypes — including the
> pervasive cultural belief that fat people are categorically unattractive
> or unlovable — are more likely to binge eat, as are survivors of sexual
> assault. Fat acceptance spaces frequently include heartbreaking stories
> of people whose partners kept their relationships secret. Worse still,
> some tell stories about working up the courage to share their
> experiences of sexual assault only to be categorically disbelieved.
> Given the pervasiveness of their experiences, is it any wonder that some
> fat people come to experience anyone else’s desire for them as predatory?
>
> Of course, not all fat people have lived these sex and relationship
> horror stories. But many of us have become so acculturated to them that
> we come to describe the vast majority of fat attraction as fat
> fetishism. When fat sex and dating are discussed, there’s rarely room
> for simple attraction. But thin people are frequently attracted to other
> thin people without garnering suspicion of fetishism. They may find
> themselves drawn to brown-haired people, muscle-bound bodies, or tall
> partners. They can speak freely of the physical characteristics they
> like best: chiseled jawlines, long hair, slim legs. In the world of thin
> people, these are types, a physical attraction so universal that it is
> neutral.
>
> Everyone, we are told, has a type. But if a thin person is reliably
> attracted to fat people, that type curdles and becomes something less
> trustworthy: a fetish. Fat people are so categorically undesirable,
> we’re told, that any attraction to us must speak to a darker urge or
> some unchecked appetite.
>
> I reject the notion that fat attraction is necessarily a fetish:
> something deviant, tawdry, vulgar, or dangerous. I choose to believe
> that my body is worthy of love — the electric warmth of real, full love.
> In many ways, it’s not that simple. But in some ways, it is. I choose to
> believe that I am lovable, as is my body, just as both are today.
>
> I believe that I deserve to be loved in my body, not in spite of it. My
> body is not an inconvenience, a shameful fact, or an unfortunate truth.
> Desiring my body is not a pathological act. And I’m not alone. Despite
> the never-ending headwinds, fat people around the world find and forge
> the relationships they want. There is no road map, so we become
> cartographers, charting some new land for ourselves.
>
> We live extraordinary lives, beloved by our families, partners,
> communities. Fat people fall wildly in love. Fat people get married. Fat
> people have phenomenal sex. Fat people are impossibly happy. Those fat
> people live in defiance of the expectations set forth for them. Their
> fat lives are glorious and beautiful things, vibrant and beyond the
> reach of what the rest of us have been trained to imagine. Let’s imagine
> more.

By the way I am not ignoring your post. I admit I did not read it all but have copied it to my desktop and will check it out in bits and pieces the way some people lose weight, A bit at a time. I enjoyed the writing. I was hoping for more negative comments on the photographer boyfriend. It's a long post so maybe he'll make a return somewhere later in the story. Anyway, I have copied your post for later reading. Would you do that for me?

On Monday, July 5, 2021 at 2:23:13 PM UTC-4, Thomas Joseph wrote:
> By the way I am not ignoring your post. I admit I did not read it all but have copied it to my desktop and will check it out in bits and pieces the way some people lose weight, A bit at a time. I enjoyed the writing. I was hoping for more negative comments on the photographer boyfriend. It's a long post so maybe he'll make a return somewhere later in the story. Anyway, I have copied your post for later reading. Would you do that for me?

It's still sitting on my desktop. I'll check it out in spots when I'm up to it. Do you really weight 500 plus pounds? I don't want all of you, maybe just a fold. Can we get some midgets from the same TV station that features morbidly obese people to loan us a few midgets to hold back your folds while I plow my head between the steaming flaps of funk, shaking my head back and forth to mumble-stir the stink to it's highest power.

On 7/7/2021 7:56 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
> On Monday, July 5, 2021 at 2:23:13 PM UTC-4, Thomas Joseph wrote:
>> By the way I am not ignoring your post. I admit I did not read it all but have copied it to my desktop and will check it out in bits and pieces the way some people lose weight, A bit at a time. I enjoyed the writing. I was hoping for more negative comments on the photographer boyfriend. It's a long post so maybe he'll make a return somewhere later in the story. Anyway, I have copied your post for later reading. Would you do that for me?
>
>
> It's still sitting on my desktop. I'll check it out in spots when I'm up to it. Do you really weight 500 plus pounds? I don't want all of you, maybe just a fold. Can we get some midgets from the same TV station that features morbidly obese people to loan us a few midgets to hold back your folds while I plow my head between the steaming flaps of funk, shaking my head back and forth to mumble-stir the stink to it's highest power.
>

You really do know how to turn a girl on

On Sunday, July 4, 2021 at 9:18:24 PM UTC-7, Judith Latham wrote:
> My first love went to art school, and early in our courtship he invited
> me to a student show of his photography. Haunting photographs hung on
> the walls, a ghostly kind of self-portrait of his changing body. He had
> started testosterone shortly before we met, and the double-exposed
> photos seemed to show his body as a specter as the hormones took root.
>
> We lived two states away from each other and on the weekends would meet
> in the middle in Boston, spending long days together. He wrote me
> letters nearly every day, and I responded like clockwork. His love
> letters landed like a blow, knocking the wind out of me. I wrote back on
> thick paper, sometimes sprayed with perfume. He put the letters up
> around his bedroom mirror. You say such nice things about me. I figure
> if I keep looking at them, I’ll start to believe it.
>
> Over time our Boston rendezvous turned into weekends at his apartment.
> We would lie together in his tiny bed and daydream of my postgraduation
> move to Boston. I started researching jobs, and he started looking for
> apartments.
>
> But every time I imagined our future, I couldn’t imagine myself. This
> beautiful life belonged to someone else, and he deserved someone better.
> Someone easier, prettier, cooler, and, of course, someone thinner.
>
> I have always been fat.
>
> Not chubby or fluffy or husky or curvy — fat. As I write this, I weigh
> 342 pounds and wear a women’s size 26. My body mass index (BMI)
> describes my body as “super morbidly obese” or “extremely obese.”
> Although my body is not the fattest in existence, it is the fattest the
> BMI can fathom. Three years ago, I weighed just over 400 pounds and wore
> a size 30 or 32, depending on the cut of the clothing. At my high school
> graduation, I wore a red wrap top in the highest size I could find at
> the time—a women’s 24.
>
> For me, the size of my body is a simple fact. I do not struggle with
> self-esteem or negative body image. I do not lie awake at night, longing
> for a thinner body or some life that lies 100 pounds out of reach. For
> me, my body isn’t good or bad; it just is.
>
> But I had never seen a fat woman in love — not in life, not in the
> media. I had never seen fat women who dated. I had never seen fat women
> who asserted themselves, whose partners respected them. Because this was
> uncharted territory, I assumed it was also unexplored. My risk-taking
> resolution ebbed from my broad, soft body. How could he love me if it
> meant loving this?
>
> Despite having what was described as a “very pretty face,” I was
> constantly reminded that my body was impossible to want. We were dating
> at the height of popularity of sites like Hot or Not and TV shows like
> The Swan. Everywhere I looked, bodies were openly critiqued and ranked,
> and mine steadily landed near the bottom of the scale — 2, 3, 4. His
> thinness alone earned him a much higher standing. In the cruel calculus
> of dating and relationships, our numbers didn’t match.
>
> But it wasn’t just him. I had learned that I was undesirable to almost
> everyone. For years, my body took center stage in my dating life. Dates
> constantly commented on my size, a knee-jerk reaction to their
> discomfort with their own desire. Over time, I came to experience any
> attraction as untrustworthy, as if danger lurked nearby. In retrospect,
> I worried for my bodily safety, as if only violence could develop an
> appetite for a body as soft as mine. And I worried that I would become a
> sexual curio, more novel than loved.
>
> Desire for a body like mine meant my partners were irrational, stupid,
> or resigned to settling for less than they wanted. In the years since my
> first breakup, I had struggled to accept interest where I found it. No
> matter how a potential partner looked, no matter how enthusiastic they
> were, I couldn’t trust their attraction. I shrank from their touch,
> recoiling from their hands like hot iron, believing their interest to be
> impossible or pathological. Any intimacy required vulnerability, and
> vulnerability inevitably led back to humiliation.
>
> This is among the greatest triumphs of anti-fatness: It stops us before
> we start. Its greatest victory isn’t diet industry sales or lives
> postponed just until I lose a few more pounds. It’s the belief that our
> bodies make us so worthless that we aren’t deserving of love, or even touch.
>
> As these little fissures opened into wounds, I dressed them by retelling
> the story of our relationship. It had always been impossible, too
> beautiful and tender to be true. Maybe he had taken pity on me, doing a
> charitable deed by showing affection to a pitiable fat girl. I told
> myself he didn’t want to be with me. I told myself he was too gentle to
> do what he knew needed to be done and dump me. I told myself the best
> thing I could do for him was leave. So I did.
>
> I didn’t know how to be loved. I couldn’t see it happening. So I broke
> both of our hearts.
>
> Later in my 20s, after briefly dating a friend of a friend, I decided to
> return to dating apps. I was on Bumble for less than a day when I
> matched with someone. I sent him a message — just a waving-hand emoji,
> to see how he’d respond. This was the informal first step of my
> screening process. He didn’t make it to the second.
>
> I said hello. He said: I love my women fat. Big girl usually means a big
> mouth too. Even a nice handjob is better when there’s a chubby hand
> doing the work lol. Usually bigger girls are better at pleasing their
> men though.
>
> Welcome to dating apps.
>
> Like any woman, I’d come to expect explicit photos, unwanted advances,
> and, when I dared decline, epithets. But I also faced messages like
> these, tinged with entitlement to my fat body — a body that they
> expected was theirs for the taking simply because of the size of it. In
> their eyes, I wasn’t a new land to conquer. No, I would go willingly,
> grateful for their conquest.
>
> But more than that, this message mirrored so many experiences I’d had
> before. It echoed fraternity brothers’ “hogging” competitions to bed fat
> women, their “pig roasts” to see who could sleep with the fattest woman,
> the endless barrage of fat jokes on TV. It echoed the man in a bar who
> asked me for my number, face kind and expectant, before retreating to
> his friends to report back on their dare: He’d gotten the fattest girl’s
> number. It echoed the formerly fat date who’d complimented me on my
> confidence, told me he “used to be like that, until I realized I wanted
> anyone to fuck me ever,” then asked me back to his place. It echoed the
> concerns from family and friends, dangling the promise of a loving,
> healthy relationship at a lower weight: I just want you to find someone.
>
> Then, on top of all that, messages like these. Messages that received my
> body like tissue: plentiful, accessible, disposable, trash. Fat people
> aren’t the only ones who live with the repercussions of anti-fatness in
> our relationships. Those messages also land hard with people who date
> us, love us, marry us, sleep with us. They get trapped, too. After all,
> in our cultural scripts, a fat partner is a failure at best, a shameful,
> pathological fetish at worst. Desiring fat people is something deviant
> to be hidden, to find shame in, to closet.
>
> An illustration of a smartphone with messages from a dating app.
> Deja Doodles
> But the data and research around sexuality paint a wholly different
> picture. In A Billion Wicked Thoughts, computational neuroscientists Ogi
> Ogas and Sai Gaddam analyzed history’s largest data bank on pornography
> viewers. They found that regardless of gender and sexual orientation,
> porn searches for fat bodies significantly outpaced searches for thin
> bodies. In fact, fat porn was the 16th most popular category, outranking
> categories like “anal sex” (18), “group sex” (24), “fellatio” (28), and
> “skinny” (30).
>
> “For every search for a ‘skinny’ girl,” they wrote, “there are almost
> three searches for a ‘fat’ girl.”
>
> Despite being surrounded by women of all sizes, viewers opted instead to
> drive their desire into safe, siloed, and one-sided experiences, away
> from the prying eyes of the world around them.
>
> While Ogas and Gaddam’s research speaks only to sexual desire (not
> romantic attraction or aspirations), it certainly indicates that our
> cultural scripts around size and desire — that is, that thin people are
> inherently desirable and fat people are categorically undesirable — are
> rooted more in perception than in research. The findings in A Billion
> Wicked Thoughts point to the idea that fat bodies may be among the most
> widely desired, but that desire may be repressed, possibly due to
> pervasive stigma.
>
> Many men who are attracted to fat women find ways to express that desire
> while sheltering themselves from judgment and stigma including secret
> sexual relationships with fat women, too afraid or disgusted to elevate
> those encounters to full-fledged relationships. In “Secret Relationships
> With Fat Women,” Virgie Tovar recounted the patterns of one such
> relationship of her own. “Everything was intimate and magical when we
> were alone, and then all of a sudden it would stop being that. I would
> go from being a charmingly eccentric bohemian to being a monstrously
> crass bother.”
>
> When attraction to fat people is discussed, fetishism is never far
> behind. Fetishism isn’t in itself necessarily pathological; fetishes can
> be as simple as consensual kinks, particularly intense attractions, or
> simple preferences. But when fetishism is brought up with respect to fat
> attraction, it gathers like a storm cloud.
>
> To be clear, there are attractions to fatness that take such specific
> forms that they are undeniably fetishistic. Feeders, for example, long
> to feed their “feedees,” deriving pleasure from watching their fat
> partner eat and, in some cases, from watching them gain more and more
> weight. Squash fetishes, on the other hand, indicate a desire to be sat
> on or pinned beneath their partner’s body.
>
> Some fat people happily engage with these fetishes and find fulfillment
> (or paid work) in their role. Some do not. But many fat people have felt
> fetishism thrust upon them without their consent.
>
> Fat fetishism has deep roots for many fat people, especially fat women.
> For some, size, desire, shame, and sex are a rat’s nest, hopelessly
> entangled. People who internalize anti-fat stereotypes — including the
> pervasive cultural belief that fat people are categorically unattractive
> or unlovable — are more likely to binge eat, as are survivors of sexual
> assault. Fat acceptance spaces frequently include heartbreaking stories
> of people whose partners kept their relationships secret. Worse still,
> some tell stories about working up the courage to share their
> experiences of sexual assault only to be categorically disbelieved.
> Given the pervasiveness of their experiences, is it any wonder that some
> fat people come to experience anyone else’s desire for them as predatory?
>
> Of course, not all fat people have lived these sex and relationship
> horror stories. But many of us have become so acculturated to them that
> we come to describe the vast majority of fat attraction as fat
> fetishism. When fat sex and dating are discussed, there’s rarely room
> for simple attraction. But thin people are frequently attracted to other
> thin people without garnering suspicion of fetishism. They may find
> themselves drawn to brown-haired people, muscle-bound bodies, or tall
> partners. They can speak freely of the physical characteristics they
> like best: chiseled jawlines, long hair, slim legs. In the world of thin
> people, these are types, a physical attraction so universal that it is
> neutral.
>
> Everyone, we are told, has a type. But if a thin person is reliably
> attracted to fat people, that type curdles and becomes something less
> trustworthy: a fetish. Fat people are so categorically undesirable,
> we’re told, that any attraction to us must speak to a darker urge or
> some unchecked appetite.
>
> I reject the notion that fat attraction is necessarily a fetish:
> something deviant, tawdry, vulgar, or dangerous. I choose to believe
> that my body is worthy of love — the electric warmth of real, full love.
> In many ways, it’s not that simple. But in some ways, it is. I choose to
> believe that I am lovable, as is my body, just as both are today.
>
> I believe that I deserve to be loved in my body, not in spite of it. My
> body is not an inconvenience, a shameful fact, or an unfortunate truth.
> Desiring my body is not a pathological act. And I’m not alone. Despite
> the never-ending headwinds, fat people around the world find and forge
> the relationships they want. There is no road map, so we become
> cartographers, charting some new land for ourselves.
>
> We live extraordinary lives, beloved by our families, partners,
> communities. Fat people fall wildly in love. Fat people get married. Fat
> people have phenomenal sex. Fat people are impossibly happy. Those fat
> people live in defiance of the expectations set forth for them. Their
> fat lives are glorious and beautiful things, vibrant and beyond the
> reach of what the rest of us have been trained to imagine. Let’s imagine
> more.

> You really do know how to turn a girl on

I know. But thanks for seeing it. Not all Ladies can. You are special.

> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.

Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction.. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.

On 7/8/2021 2:39 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
>
>> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.
>
>
> Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.
>
I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
"The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
know that well.

On Thursday, July 8, 2021 at 9:04:33 PM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
> On 7/8/2021 2:39 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
> >
> >> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.
> >
> >
> > Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.
> >
> I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
> one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
> jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
> have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
> donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
> piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
> well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
> business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
> between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
> "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
> know that well.

I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.

> I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
> one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
> jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
> have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
> donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
> piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
> well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
> business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
> between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
> "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
> know that well.

When a fat broad does her business we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you know that well. 

//////////////////////////////

I enjoyed your story and found great humor in your situation.  The writing was good but the topic gets old, like a fat comic who can't talk about anything else.  Still you managed to entertain me.  I commend you.

Yes you are right, shit stinks, often worse rolling out of cheeks too big for the toilet seat.  But does fat people's shit really smell worse?  Do scientific studies back it up?

I know a little something about the smell of human shit as I once worked 6 years as a city restroom inspector.  I took my job seriously.

One day I was walking into a service station restroom to rate it's cleanliness when the attendant came walking out warning me to hold my breath because, "It stinks really bad in there."  He tells me there was a weird guy hanging around who used the restroom, so he went in to check it out.

"I'm telling you, this guy was super weird. He was in there a long time. When he left I walked in.  He never even flushed the toilet.  Go ahead, take a look.  What a weirdo.  The turds are all perfectly uniform in size and shape - like those Bon Bon candies they sell at movie theaters.  Really weird.  Perfectly round. Must be a hundred of them floating in that bowl."

I bid him adieu and initiated inspection.  When I was done I passed the attendant in route to my car.

"I was right, wasn't I?", he said.  "I mean it really did stink in there, didn't it?"

"You were right about the stink, yes - bit you were off on the count.  You said there were 100 turds.  Well, I counted them and there were only 92."  The restroom was otherwise clean.  I gave it a B Plus rating but reduced it to a C Minus after he thanked me and went to shake my hand without washing his hands before leaving the restroom.

To most people shit smells like shit.  But a connoisseur savors the subtle aroma and nuance of stink like an expert snifting a Brandy glass.

> I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.

Your non confessions have now been confessed. Thank you. You don't have to turn Catholic to go to confession. I suggest you go as soon as possible as you're not getting any younger. Do heaven and hell exist? We don't know. So for the safety's sake I suggest you get your ass into that confessional as soon as possible - and don't hold back. Let it all out, every bit of it, including that time in Frisco - don't pretend you don't remember - when we whacked that ex-Wall St. executive posing as a bum and hiding out on skid row to avoid the inevitable. You have to admit it was cool. I loved the way you held his legs down while I strangled him - great teamwork - only to then later get down on me for getting his neck while all you got were his legs. But you had just come out of the Navy and had strong arms. Mine were not strong enough to hold down the legs. People who have never strangled don't know how tough a job it is. It's not just a neck - the whole body fights back. Anyway, you've done wrong in your life but you're a nice guy, so I think you got a shot at heaven even without confessing. But just in case I urge you to hit the box ASAP.

On Friday, July 9, 2021 at 6:35:46 PM UTC-4, jazee...@gmail.com wrote:
> > I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.
> Your non confessions have now been confessed. Thank you. You don't have to turn Catholic to go to confession. I suggest you go as soon as possible as you're not getting any younger. Do heaven and hell exist? We don't know. So for the safety's sake I suggest you get your ass into that confessional as soon as possible - and don't hold back. Let it all out, every bit of it, including that time in Frisco - don't pretend you don't remember - when we whacked that ex-Wall St. executive posing as a bum and hiding out on skid row to avoid the inevitable. You have to admit it was cool. I loved the way you held his legs down while I strangled him - great teamwork - only to then later get down on me for getting his neck while all you got were his legs. But you had just come out of the Navy and had strong arms. Mine were not strong enough to hold down the legs. People who have never strangled don't know how tough a job it is. It's not just a neck - the whole body fights back. Anyway, you've done wrong in your life but you're a nice guy, so I think you got a shot at heaven even without confessing. But just in case I urge you to hit the box ASAP.

I figured I may not get into heaven but I should avoid hell.

On 7/9/2021 3:13 PM, OllieNorthie@aol.com wrote:
> On Thursday, July 8, 2021 at 9:04:33 PM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
>> On 7/8/2021 2:39 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
>>>
>>>> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.
>>>
>>>
>>> Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.
>>>
>> I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
>> one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
>> jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
>> have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
>> donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
>> piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
>> well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
>> business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
>> between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
>> "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
>> know that well.
>
>
> I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.
>
The beauty of being of the Christian faith is you never have to worry
about sinning. Jesus died for all of your sins, so you always get a
clean slate. As a Jew, I don't get that break.

On Sunday, July 11, 2021 at 10:44:29 AM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
> On 7/9/2021 3:13 PM, OllieN...@aol.com wrote:
> > On Thursday, July 8, 2021 at 9:04:33 PM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
> >> On 7/8/2021 2:39 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
> >>>
> >>>> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.
> >>>
> >>>
> >>> Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.
> >>>
> >> I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
> >> one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
> >> jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
> >> have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
> >> donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
> >> piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
> >> well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
> >> business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
> >> between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
> >> "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
> >> know that well.
> >
> >
> > I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.
> >
> The beauty of being of the Christian faith is you never have to worry
> about sinning. Jesus died for all of your sins, so you always get a
> clean slate. As a Jew, I don't get that break.

Jews have psychiatrist.

> I figured I may not get into heaven but I should avoid hell.

I feel the same. What makes me laugh are movies or TV shows where people don't know where they are and someone says, "Hey, for all we know, this could be hell." What an incredible lack of imagination. I would see that on the Twilight Zone now and then, like the guy who died and was given everything he ever wanted. He couldn't lose at anything. He had women. I don't know if he could have sex with them, they didn't say. He has a keeper played by Sebastion Cabot who pays him visits now and then. Finally the guy cracks and says, "I don't like it here in Heaven, it's the same thing over and over again - I can't lose, there's no excitement - I want to go to the other place." Cabot laughs and says, "My friend, this IS the other place."

I did not find that a good episode because my vision of hell is non stop screaming and shuddering and moaning or whatever one does to try to block out the agony - and it goes on without any breaks, forever. In real hell with real suffering there would be no time to sit around wondering if you're in hell or not. I don't care for either one as described in the Big Book. I guess total eternal death would come closest to actual heaven, or maybe dreams. Dreams that can go in many different directions with you not being totally in control yet ready at any moment to pull out if things get too dicey. Dreams are hard to beat.

> The beauty of being of the Christian faith is you never have to worry
> about sinning. Jesus died for all of your sins, so you always get a
> clean slate. As a Jew, I don't get that break.

Wrong. As a jew you get all the breaks. Ask Bozo.

On Sunday, July 11, 2021 at 7:44:29 AM UTC-7, Judith Latham wrote:
> On 7/9/2021 3:13 PM, OllieN...@aol.com wrote:
> > On Thursday, July 8, 2021 at 9:04:33 PM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
> >> On 7/8/2021 2:39 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
> >>>
> >>>> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.
> >>>
> >>>
> >>> Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.
> >>>
> >> I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
> >> one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
> >> jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
> >> have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
> >> donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
> >> piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
> >> well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
> >> business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
> >> between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
> >> "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
> >> know that well.
> >
> >
> > I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.
> >
> The beauty of being of the Christian faith is you never have to worry
> about sinning. Jesus died for all of your sins, so you always get a
> clean slate. As a Jew, I don't get that break.

Don't forget Christians also get the Rapture and Jews don't. But when the Rapture comes, what if you could baptize nazis and cockroaches? Wouldn't all the skies everywhere darken and turn black, all the UFOs and cockroaches collide and crash, and all the Jews everywhere would buy up all infested real estate, turn them all into casinos, drive all the American Indians out of business, and call it all "Dinnylannn"?

On Sunday, July 11, 2021 at 5:19:22 PM UTC-4, bosodeniro@gmail.com wrote:
> On Sunday, July 11, 2021 at 7:44:29 AM UTC-7, Judith Latham wrote:
> > On 7/9/2021 3:13 PM, OllieN...@aol.com wrote:
> > > On Thursday, July 8, 2021 at 9:04:33 PM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
> > >> On 7/8/2021 2:39 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
> > >>>
> > >>>> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.
> > >>>
> > >>>
> > >>> Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight.. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.
> > >>>
> > >> I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
> > >> one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
> > >> jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
> > >> have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
> > >> donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
> > >> piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
> > >> well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
> > >> business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
> > >> between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
> > >> "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
> > >> know that well.
> > >
> > >
> > > I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.
> > >
> > The beauty of being of the Christian faith is you never have to worry
> > about sinning. Jesus died for all of your sins, so you always get a
> > clean slate. As a Jew, I don't get that break.
> Don't forget Christians also get the Rapture and Jews don't. But when the Rapture comes, what if you could baptize nazis and cockroaches? Wouldn't all the skies everywhere darken and turn black, all the UFOs and cockroaches collide and crash, and all the Jews everywhere would buy up all infested real estate, turn them all into casinos, drive all the American Indians out of business, and call it all "Dinnylannn"?

This is a good thread. From TZ to Jews. Jews invented Hell. Rod Serling is a Jew (I think). All makes sense.

On 7/11/2021 5:19 PM, bosodeniro@gmail.com wrote:
> On Sunday, July 11, 2021 at 7:44:29 AM UTC-7, Judith Latham wrote:
>> On 7/9/2021 3:13 PM, OllieN...@aol.com wrote:
>>> On Thursday, July 8, 2021 at 9:04:33 PM UTC-4, Judith Latham wrote:
>>>> On 7/8/2021 2:39 PM, Thomas Joseph wrote:
>>>>>
>>>>>> You're an addict Judith, and I'm not going to pretend to advise you on treatments for addiction because I think the treatment industry is as cruel and predatory as the dope business itself, and I know the dope business because I live in a subsidized apartment building that is fed and bred cheek to jowl to the dope business. They're all sucking off each other. But I know from my own experience that overcoming addiction is a lifelong burden for EVERYBODY in one way or another, not to diminish yours with food and all the other mitigating issues, but I've discovered that when I feel the gnaw and nausea of addiction after all the transitory treatments of coffee, keto, and short-chained fatty acids fail, I can usually turn to sleep because addiction is very fatiguing, and if you can, try being still and just letting the drone of TV knock you out.
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>> Are you suggesting Judith become addicted to sleep? It's a great addiction. Not easy to maintain though. Keep waking up. That in itself is fine - I enjoy waking up and diving back into a new set of dreams - but sometimes I'll wake up and I can't go back. Then what? I have lost many of my addictions - especially the good ones like walking routinely. I have a new addiction. I'm a lightweight with it compared to many I've known. Coca Cola. I now drink 2 a day, 20 ounces each. I eat well though and still walk now and then so it's not like I'm in Judith's league when it comes to body weight. Truth is I have the body of a Greek God, although it is not as firm and tight as in the past. That's what time does. It turns us into puddles. It's a nice way to die. Slow. Imperceptible stages of deterioration until finally the body simply dissolves into a uselessness bordering on luxury due to less demand and need - just kind of going with the flow, oh yeah man, the best addiction of them all - acceptance.
>>>>>
>>>> I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm addicted to donuts. If I have even
>>>> one, the next thing you know I've scoffed down 3 dozen Dunkin Donuts
>>>> jelly donuts. If they don't have jelly, cream will do fine. One issue I
>>>> have if I'm out at one of their stores is no bathroom. I wash down those
>>>> donuts with a jumbo coffee, 7 sugars and half/half. I gotta piss and
>>>> piss bad. Nobody wants to let the fat broad use the bathroom. They know
>>>> well the place will stink once we get out. When a fat broad does her
>>>> business, we can create an unbearable stench. Usually I wind up going
>>>> between 2 parked cars. Of course if some kid is passing by, he'll scream
>>>> "The fat lady's taking a shit!" Life's not easy sometimes; I'm sure you
>>>> know that well.
>>>
>>>
>>> I got confessions too but I keep them to myself. If I were Catholic I would go into the confessional and tell the nosy priest to mind his own business and I will mind mine.
>>>
>> The beauty of being of the Christian faith is you never have to worry
>> about sinning. Jesus died for all of your sins, so you always get a
>> clean slate. As a Jew, I don't get that break.
>
> Don't forget Christians also get the Rapture and Jews don't. But when the Rapture comes, what if you could baptize nazis and cockroaches? Wouldn't all the skies everywhere darken and turn black, all the UFOs and cockroaches collide and crash, and all the Jews everywhere would buy up all infested real estate, turn them all into casinos, drive all the American Indians out of business, and call it all "Dinnylannn"?
>
Hypothetically speaking (we Jews don't believe in Hell), all Nazis and
cockroaches belong in Hell. But then, isn't that rewarding them with a
fun-filled eternity? All the best party goers are definitely down there.
Hookers, coke heads, alcoholics, gamblers etc... It would be more
fitting if they went directly to Heaven. Let them hang out with all
those boring grandmother types. Let them spend their days praying and
playing a harp. Those fucks deserve a miserable after life.

> Hypothetically speaking (we Jews don't believe in Hell), all Nazis and
> cockroaches belong in Hell. But then, isn't that rewarding them with a
> fun-filled eternity? All the best party goers are definitely down there.
> Hookers, coke heads, alcoholics, gamblers etc... It would be more
> fitting if they went directly to Heaven. Let them hang out with all
> those boring grandmother types. Let them spend their days praying and
> playing a harp. Those fucks deserve a miserable after life.

Not much you can do with Hell without stretching the truth of what it's supposed to represent - pure never ending torment. Still living people often complain of being bored. Well let me tell you something, being bored is a luxury. Nobody is bored in hell. Not enough free time. Stories about hell being a fun place because that's where the really groovy people are full of crap. I do not believe in heaven or hell, but if I did I would accept hell as what it's supposed to represent - the worst place you'd ever want to be. As a matter of fact I seriously doubt that anyone, even the stupidest among us, truly believes all the way in heaven or hell. Or God. Everyone is an agnostic even if they don't know it. Nobody believes all the way. Nobody disbelieves all the way. Some come close but most are bunched up in the middle of the scale. I still say pure and total death - I mean like all the way - is probably the closest anyone comes to heaven, other than maybe being able to dream for eternity. That could be cool. Not total control over the dreams, but the ability to pull the cord and snap out of one if it's getting a bit too hard to handle.

> Don't forget Christians also get the Rapture and Jews don't. But when the Rapture comes, what if you could baptize nazis and cockroaches? Wouldn't all the skies everywhere darken and turn black, all the UFOs and cockroaches collide and crash, and all the Jews everywhere would buy up all infested real estate, turn them all into casinos, drive all the American Indians out of business, and call it all "Dinnylannn"?

Why would Nazis deserve to go to Hell over anybody else? What a stupid concept. Very bigoted and also quite hateful. Never wish hell on anybody. Remember that. Never!

Go to Hell!

> This is a good thread. From TZ to Jews. Jews invented Hell. Rod Serling is a Jew (I think). All makes sense.

Absolutely, Serling has been in on it from the start. I watched another Zone on MeTV last night. When the shows are over I like to look at the credits after guessing whether Serling wrote this one or not. Most of the ones I liked were written by other guys. Serling's name appears on some I'll bet he did not write. He may have helped with the script, but I'll bet he didn't write them all. The reason I say that is he is one heavy handed son of a bitch. Lots of historical crap, propaganda, anti Nazi stuff - very limited. Like the one where a town goes dark and everyone is afraid as reports come in over the radio about the skies turning dark over Berlin and Hanoi and other locales across the globe Serling and his ilk have deemed hotspots of hate. Overly political crap. A very hefty percent of his stories involve the Nazi era. The guy put out a good show and I liked a lot of it. But when it was bad it could get pretty embarrassing.

On Monday, July 12, 2021 at 5:11:42 PM UTC-4, jazee...@gmail.com wrote:
> > This is a good thread. From TZ to Jews. Jews invented Hell. Rod Serling is a Jew (I think). All makes sense.
> Absolutely, Serling has been in on it from the start. I watched another Zone on MeTV last night. When the shows are over I like to look at the credits after guessing whether Serling wrote this one or not. Most of the ones I liked were written by other guys. Serling's name appears on some I'll bet he did not write. He may have helped with the script, but I'll bet he didn't write them all. The reason I say that is he is one heavy handed son of a bitch. Lots of historical crap, propaganda, anti Nazi stuff - very limited. Like the one where a town goes dark and everyone is afraid as reports come in over the radio about the skies turning dark over Berlin and Hanoi and other locales across the globe Serling and his ilk have deemed hotspots of hate. Overly political crap. A very hefty percent of his stories involve the Nazi era. The guy put out a good show and I liked a lot of it. But when it was bad it could get pretty embarrassing.

Pick a boogie man and boogie woogie down with it TZ style.